The Phoenix and the Wolf
by Muggledog
Summary: After his tumultous second year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter discovers that his aunt and uncle have refused to take him back for more than one week out of the summer. Find out where Harry must live instead, and the adventures that follow. HHr
1. Chapter 1

The Phoenix and the Wolf

One

Albus Dumbledore looked at his guests. He had to admit to himself that he had never had Muggles in his office before. Preferably, any business or meetings that had to come between a Muggleborn witch or wizard's parents was done on neutral ground, where the Ministry of Magic had not banned magic, but nor in a blatantly magical area where the Muggle parents might feel uncomfortable. Dumbledore silently watched as Alan and Emily Granger took in their new surroundings, clearly curious, and a tad uncomfortable, although, Dumbledore reasoned, some of that discomfort may have come from the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Granger had just returned from the hospital wing, where they were visiting Hermione, who had been petrified by the legendary snake of Slytherin. Dumbledore noted uneasily that Mrs. Granger's eyes were still a tad red.

Alan was a tall man, the son of a Scottish father and a French-Greek mother, who had a head of neatly parted, bushy brown hair which his daughter had clearly inherited, and an immaculate moustache that was trimmed, Dumbledore reflected, to rival the head of the Department of International Magical cooperation at the Ministry, Barty Crouch's moustache. Emily, on the other hand, had slightly thinner hair than her husband, but it was clearly her who had given her daughter the messy hair that both privately called a 'bird's nest', the color of which blurred the lines between red and brown. Emily was also very proud to have given her baby her chocolate brown eyes, of which she was justly proud.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, this is indeed an honor, and if I may say so, a rare pleasure, to have you two in my office," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "won't you please take a seat?"

"Thank you, Professor," Mr. Granger responded in his soft, thickly accented bass. He and his wife proceeded to sit down.

"Well," Dumbledore said, after they were all comfortable, and he had offered them a lemon drop, which Mr. and Mrs. Granger politely refused, "as Hermione may have told you, I would not ordinarily hold a meeting with you two here in my office, however, I feel that this meeting is of extra importance, so it will be to our advantage that as few people know about this as possible."

"Yes, sir," Mr. Granger replied. Dumbledore smiled at him in gratitude.

"This has to do with your daughter's friend Harry Potter. I trust you have been told about him?"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Granger spoke up, "I think we have enough tales that Hermione's told us to fill a book," she said, chuckling.

"Anyway," Dumbledore continued, "this has to do with his summer plans. I'm afraid that a few complications have arisen. His aunt and uncle are going to take him back for the first week only. I'm afraid that his aunt has obtained new levels of vindictiveness towards our world than before, and has blackmailed me…" Dumbledore suddenly stopped, a slight pink tinge entering his cheeks, as if he'd told them a little more than he had meant to. "Ahem…the point is, much as I am troubled by it, I cannot keep him at his relatives' house more than one week after the summer, and I was lucky to get that much out of his aunt…" Dumbledore paused again.

"Sir," Mrs. Granger said quietly, "I'm not trying to be rude, but what's this got to do with us?"

"A good question, Mrs. Granger, and to answer, I think I am forced to give you a bit of background on why Harry stays with his uncle and aunt. As he probably told you, his mother died protecting him and thus provided him with a blood protection. There is a very complex ward that can be constructed that can provide the utmost protection against dark magic, so long as he can call where his mother's blood resides—in this case, his aunt and himself—home. By returning there each summer, his protection is renewed. However, where his aunt and uncle are unwilling to have him longer than a week, I have to send him another place where he will be safe. I have been busy researching similar wards, and have concluded that there is another ward that can be constructed around a bond of close friendship. The protection on Harry will be much less effective than at his aunt's house, but it's the best I can do."

"Does that mean…" Mr. Granger said hesitantly,

"I would like you to keep Harry over the summer," Dumbledore confirmed, nodding.

"We'd be happy, to, of course," Mrs. Granger said, "but Hermione in her letters was always talking about that other friend of hers, Ron, and how he was Harry's first friend and that she thinks he gets along and…prefers Ron to her, so wouldn't you have asked Ron's family?"

"Ordinarily, yes. However, the Weasleys are one of the obstacles facing us. You see, Arthur Weasley just confided in me that he entered the Daily Prophet annual prize galleon draw and won only just last night—he's keeping it from the children and the paper itself until they are finished with the school year—and is planning a vacation, where they will go see Ron's eldest brother who works in Egypt currently, and then pay a visit to some unspecified extended family, and I did indeed ask Molly, who said that she would have been delighted to have Harry along, but despite the 1,000 galleon prize they got, most of the money has already been spent. I know Molly considers Harry a surrogate son, but I also suspect she is very much looking forward to spending time with her biological family." The Grangers nodded. Dumbledore smiled, though his face quickly became grim again.

"I…I feel it is my duty to inform you that there is a man, a criminal in our world, who, sources say, is after Harry. No wizarding child, including Hermione is safe with him on the loose, but I fear that with you serving as Harry's hosts, you may be under more danger. I promise to make the wards that I will put on your house as strong as possible, but I urge you to be vigilant and keep an eye on both children. I will have eyes out, too, but there is no such thing as having too many eyes out. Now, this news has not been made known to the public yet, and I trust you to be completely confidential." Both nodded. Mrs. Granger had slumped a tiny bit in her seat, though it was barely noticeable, and her eyes took on a dreamy look and she shivered a bit. Mr. Granger knew that she was feeling immensely frightened and worried; having just returned from visiting her daughter in a state much like a coma except that it was unlike a coma that Mrs. Granger had observed, and now they had been told that their daughter was in danger from an escaped convict.

"Is that all?" Mr. Granger asked, knowing that he had taken in his fill of revelations for the day. Dumbledore nodded, and stood from his desk, followed by the Grangers. He shook their hands and gestured towards the door. Smiling slightly, Mr. Granger left the office, followed by his wife.

BREAK

"Back again? How did your meeting with the Headmaster go?" Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse asked, beckoning Mr. and Mrs. Granger in when she saw them. "Never mind," she amended when she saw Mrs. Granger's tired face, "but I have some good news: The Mandrake Draught is all ready, and I was just about to do the honors. Would you like to administer Hermione's dose?"

"Yes, please," Mrs. Granger said quietly. Madame Pomfrey smiled comfortingly and pushed a medium sized goblet into Mrs. Granger's hand.

"See that Hermione drinks all of that," Madame Pomfrey said, indicating the goblet, "it will have Hermione restored to full health." The potion, Mr. Granger noted, was giving off a thick steam that alternated between being blue, red, orange and silver. It also smelled nasty, even worse than burnt haggis, but if it restored Hermione to full health, Mr. Granger knew he would never badmouth the foul liquid ever again. Mr. Granger followed his wife over to Hermione's bedside, looking sadly at Hermione's statue-like body, and put his arm around his wife, as he gently opened her mouth. Mrs. Granger's hand shook as she lowered the goblet into her mouth.

What happened was very frightening for either of the Grangers to observe. As Hermione's reflexes made her swallow the potion, Mr. and Mrs. Granger could hear eerie, very shrill and very menacing-sounding cries emanate from the potion…or so they assumed since there was no one else in the area, except for Madame Pomfrey and the other victims of the snake. Hermione's body was also outlined in the same steam that had come from the goblet, except the transition pattern of blue, red, orange, silver was happening much faster.

"Dear, I think we should call…" Mrs. Granger said in a slightly panicky voice, but before she was able to finish her sentence, Hermione gave a little barely audible moan, her eye fluttering, and went right into a deep sleep, but due to the fact that they could see her chest rise and fall, and hear her breaths, they knew the potion had worked. A grin spread rapidly across Mr. Granger's face. Mrs. Granger made to gently shake Hermione awake, but Mr. Granger held her back.

"Let her sleep," he said in a whisper, "we have plenty of time." She nodded, and planted a feather light kiss on Hermione's forehead, kneeling down and placing her own head beside Hermione's, quietly sobbing in relief.

Three hours later, with another soft moan, Hermione awoke. She could see two figures looking anxiously at her, but her vision was blurred, and her memory swam. As she blinked again, the figures came into focus.

"Daddy?"

"I'm here, sunflower."

"Mum?"

"Baby, oh thank God, you're okay, oh sweetheart," Mrs. Granger said in a whisper.

"Daddy, I…"

"Shhh, sunflower, you're okay now, you're going to be fine," Mr. Granger said soothingly, gently pushing Hermione's head back on her pillow.

"Is this real?" Hermione asked her mother. Mrs. Granger bent down and hugged Hermione, as tenderly as possible while still hugging her with all her might, as Mr. Granger stroked her hair. As her mother embraced her, Hermione began to cry, embarrassedly and quietly at first, but eventually she was weeping, as everything that had happened, and the fact that she didn't know where her two best friends were, hit her.

"Shhh, baby, it's okay; I'm here, I'm here," Mrs. Granger droned on in a soothing whisper. After a few minutes, Hermione had calmed down, but neither she nor her mother seemed keen on letting their embrace end soon. When finally she did lie back down, her father eyed her, concernedly.

"Can I get you anything, sunflower? A cup of water, perhaps?" She shook her head. "Listen, sunflower, your mother, your Headmaster and I were talking, and there are quite a few things we need to talk about…"

"That can wait until tomorrow, can't it, Alan? Hermione needs her sleep."

"But tomorrow is the last day of the year, and as all this concerns our summer I don't think it's a good thing to wait."

"All right. Hermione, baby, are you up for listening to your father?"

"Yes," Hermione said, taking both of her parents' hands.

So Mr. Granger proceeded to tell Hermione everything they had discussed with Dumbledore, unawares that at that moment, two boys, a girl, and a (literally) mindless teacher, who were all covered in grime were climbing out of a secret pipe in a girls' bathroom, and making their way to the office of Professor Minerva McGonagall, the deputy Headmistress.

BREAK

Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Neville Longbottom sat at the Gryffindor table, chatting amicably. As his head swung over his shoulder, Neville grinned to himself, recognizing a certain girl who was shyly profiled in the doorway to the Great Hall.

"Harry—it's Hermione!" He said excitedly. Both Ron and Harry looked first at Neville, confused, and then, following his line of gaze, both boys' mouths broke into identical grins. Hermione grinned back at them and ran down the table to meet them. They rose to meet her.

"Congratulations, I can't believe you solved it!!" Hermione squealed, throwing herself into Ron's arms, whose face matched then surpassed the color of his hair.

"I just can't believe you two solved it! This is so cool! I'm so proud of you," Hermione jabbered on, hugging Harry.

When her arms went around him, Harry couldn't help but notice how right it felt, how warm her embrace was, and how she looked…cute, all flushed with excitement.

"Well, we had loads of help from you," Harry responded modestly, "we couldn't have done it without you."

"Thanks," Hermione responded, smiling at her friend, but when she saw the twinkle in his eyes that said he was being honest, Hermione couldn't help asking herself, _have my feelings for Harry Potter changed_? But before she could answer herself, she was interrupted.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas," Percy Weasley, Ron's elder brother, and Gryffindor Prefect said, "good to have you back."

"Thank you," replied Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington, the resident ghost of Gryffindor tower, and another victim of the snake, grinning from a plate filled with lamb chops.

Dumbledore smiled at the congregation of students assembled as he rose to his feet and cleared his throat to make his customary speech.

"Another year gone," Dumbledore said, smiling, "and now, let us have a round of applause for Madame Pomfrey and professor Sprout, whose Mandrake Draught has been so successfully administered to all who had been petrified. It is also my duty to tell you that Professor Lockhart shall not be returning next year, as he has to spend some time in St. Mungo's hospital for memory loss, and lastly, some good news: In light of recent events, as a school treat, all exams have been cancelled!" The noise that followed was loud enough that it probably traveled over fifty miles (enough that only Harry and Ron heard Hermione mutter, "oh _no_"). It died down again, however, when the doors of the Great Hall opened with a bang, revealing Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, and one of Harry's first friends from the magical world, who had been wrongly accused of being the one responsible for the snake petrifying the students, and had gone for what the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge had called a 'precautionary' stay in Azkaban, the wizard prison, for a little while that term.

"Sorry I'm late," Hagrid said in his rumbling voice as he strode towards the head table, "the owl that delivered my release papers got all lost and confused. Some ruddy bird called, Errol." Harry and Hermione gave Ron amused looks. Apparently, Dumbledore had asked him to send Azkaban the release order, and Ron had chosen his old, tired family owl over a possibly more efficient school owl. Hagrid stopped in front of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"Well, if it wasn't for you, Harry, and Ron, and Hermione, o'course, I would still, uh…I would still be you-know-where, so I'd just like to say…thanks!"

"There's no Hogwarts without you, Hagrid," Harry replied, getting to his feet. Smiling shyly, but meaningfully, at the half-giant and wrapped his arms as far around Hagrid's waist as he could manage. Stunned and touched, Hagrid returned the embrace. Up at the head table, Dumbledore, his smile widening, stood and applauded Hagrid, soon followed by McGonagall. Harry broke from his embrace, stepped back and began to clap, too, followed by Ron and then Hermione, Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister, Fred and George Weasley, Ron's twin brothers and eventually, the whole great hall, including a few Slytherins. Hagrid was beaming as tears fell down his face, causing Hermione and Ginny to break into tears, and both girls ran up and hugged Hagrid as well. The party raged on until after midnight, and everyone was in high spirits. As she looked through her tear-blurred vision at Harry, beaming and applauding Hagrid, one thought crossed her mind.

_This is going to be an interesting summer_.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

Hermione was not happy with Dumbledore's insistence that neither she, nor her parents, should just yet reveal that they would be keeping Harry for the majority of the summer. Emily Granger had told her daughter that Dumbledore had warned against 'getting Harry's spirits up'. Hermione had huffed, saying that Dumbledore had no right to deny Harry something that would lift his spirits before he had to spend a week with his horrible relations. Nevertheless, Hermione's parents had convinced her to not say anything, though Hermione had very much wanted to rebel against that act of Dumbledore's, and she boarded the Hogwarts Express just behind Harry, not saying anything, and praying that, as he would only be there one week, Harry's relatives wouldn't be too horrible to him.

BREAK

"Hurry _up_, boy! We haven't got all day!!" Uncle Vernon called at Harry, casting a wary eye in all directions at the congregated Weasleys and Hermione's parents. Hermione's face narrowed in intense dislike at Uncle Vernon, her own emotions surprising her, as she'd never felt anything like this before. It might have just been true hate. _Why, though? It's not like they've ever done anything to warrant my hatred, per se_.

As he followed his uncle out the station, Harry gave his two best friends a sad wave, although Ron noticed with amusement that he subtly pointed his thumb at his cousin Dudley, allowing a very mischievous grin to spread over his face.

Later, Uncle Vernon pulled into the immaculate driveway of Number Four, Privet Drive, and almost immediately sent Harry to his room.

"We are having an engagement tonight, and I do not want the Bouquets to know of your existence. You'll stay in your room until I specifically call for you, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied dully. Merlin, he'd been at Privet Drive for less than an hour and already missed Ron and Hermione with all of his being, especially Hermione. Try as he might, he could not get the image of her as she had run to hug the two of them in the Great Hall. Choking on a piteous moan of frustration and longing, Harry heaved his trunk up to his room, listening listlessly as he could hear Uncle Vernon securing the many padlocks he had put on Harry's door just last summer.

"I envy you, girl," Harry said to his snowy owl, Hedwig as he placed her cage upon its customary spot atop his dresser, "at least you don't have to spend the evening pretending not to exist." He opened her cage and the window. "Enjoy yourself," he said, almost passionately. Hedwig gave him a reassuring nibble on his ear and flew out the open window.

Harry sighed, and sat down on his bed, thinking, trying not to let the high, false laughs of his Aunt Petunia or Lady Bouquet to annoy him. Finally, Harry heard Uncle Vernon call.

"Boy! Get down here and serve the pudding!" Harry heaved himself off his bed and made his way towards the kitchen. This was not the first time Lady Bouquet and her husband Richard had been one of Uncle Vernon's dinner guests, so he was not surprised that they did not show any signs of shock at the way the Dursleys treated him. Not being allowed to—or wanting to—look at any of them, Harry's attention went to dividing one of Aunt Petunia's massive puddings into five exactly even pieces and put them on the plates that Aunt Petunia had specifically for afters. Keeping his head down, he carried the plates into the dining room, first serving the Bouquets and then the Dursleys. Harry tried to ignore Lady Bouquet's sniffs as he laid down her slice of pudding. Like Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, Lady Bouquet, who liked to keep everything orderly, proper and presentable, liked to make comments on Harry, mostly his appearance, and (again like Marge) almost none were positive.

"The way he dresses, Petunia, it's not right. He's working for you, so he needs to dress like it."

"I quite agree," Aunt Petunia said casually. As Harry left the kitchen, he just barely saw what looked like a knowingly sympathetic look cross the face of Mr. Bouquet. Harry shrugged it off, and returned to his room. He was hungry, very hungry, and the smell of the pudding had not helped. He would not complain, knowing that if he did, he Dursleys would find a way to make him pay.

Harry was actually surprised at how well things, overall, were going. He had managed to keep his temper in check when the Bouquets had been there, which had irritated Uncle Vernon, as he was clearly hoping to have something to get on Harry's case about. For punishment for his good behavior, Uncle Vernon had made sure to give Harry plenty of chores the following day. He mowed the lawn, washed the car, trimmed the hedges, weeded the garden, washed the windows and vacuumed the entire house, save the kitchen, which Aunt Petunia considered her domain to clean. From the start, she complained that Harry _never _put the dinner plates on the _left _hand side of the cupboard, or the dessert plates on the _right_, with tea saucers in the _middle_; how he never remembered to put the glasses in order of height, and how he _kept _mixing the teacups and mugs in the glasses cabinet…etc., etc. It wasn't until about five that Harry finished. Most of his chores had been done outside, and Uncle Vernon had forbid him to wear at hat, so he had a splitting headache, and now, Aunt Petunia turned down his request for a glass of water. Just then, the door opened and Uncle Vernon walked in with Dudley, who had been attending some sort of after school club, but both Vernon and Petunia had refused to give him any details. Dudley saw Harry, and his face broke out in a mischievous grin.

"I learned some cool new stuff today, Mummy, want to see?" Dudley said, sneering at Harry.

"I'd love to, Duddikins," Aunt Petunia said in a honeyed voice.

"Dad, can you help me?" Dudley asked, winking at his father.

"I'd be delighted to, son," Uncle Vernon replied airily. Harry bit back a sigh as Aunt Petunia closed the curtains and Uncle Vernon came up behind Harry and held his hands behind his back.

"We're going to have fun, aren't we, Potter?" Dudley said smirking. Harry refused to reply. Dudley, ever the show-off, cracked his knuckles as he balled his hands into fists.

WHAM! The blow, which Harry calculated was meant for his face, in the region of his nose, missed, but it still bore into his left bicep. Harry bit his tongue to refrain from gasping, but managed to keep his face impassive. Dudley was winding up to throw another punch when someone knocked on the door, politely, but with an underscoring of urgency that made Uncle Vernon look curious as he moved to the door, wondering if this was going to be somebody he could respect, as their door-knocking style suggested. Dudley followed his father, "accidentally" tripping Harry, causing him to fall hard onto his right kneecap. This time, Harry's face reacted to the pain, but he still managed to keep quiet.

"Good evening, Mr. Dursley," a very familiar voice said from the doorway, "I was wondering if I might be able to see Harry?" Harry could not explain why Hermione's voice was so calming to him, especially since he was furious with Dudley, and could not wait to make him pay.

"Absolutely not," Uncle Vernon replied coldly, "you're one of those worthless freaks that he calls a friend, aren't you? You can not see him, and furthermore, you can't come to this house again, you filthy little…"

"DON'T YOU DARE SPEAK TO HERMIONE LIKE THAT!" Harry roared, except that he was not the only one who had said it. Curious, Harry limped over to the entryway. Standing behind Hermione, with his hand protectively over her shoulder was a taller man who had very bushy brown hair, making it obvious who he was.

"I'm sorry about him, Hermione, Mr. Granger," Harry said.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Mr. Granger replied.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked him concernedly, having noticed his limp.

"Er…yeah, I'm fine," Harry said, dodging the question.

"Harry, we've come to pick you up," Hermione said quickly, "I'll explain more later, but for now, do want to go get your stuff? I really don't fancy staying here…er…in the cold air,"

"I quite understand," Harry said, understanding what Hermione really wanted to avoid. He took her hand and led her up to his room.

It only took Harry and Hermione a couple minutes to pack, as most of Harry's stuff had not been unpacked to begin with, and Harry was soon back downstairs.

"I'm all set," Harry announced to Mr. Granger, who was standing against the Dursleys' fireplace, glowering at the Dursleys who were huddled in fear on the other side of the room.

"All right, Harry," Mr. Granger said, and led the two out to his car. It was a sporty, yet posh Bentley with very inviting looking leather seats, not at all like Uncle Vernon's company-paid Lexus SUV, but maybe that was because of the half a dozen books scattered pell-mell across the backseat, giving the car a much more used, functional look than the Dursleys' car—or anything the Dursleys owned for that matter—which was completely spotlessly clean and sterile. Following his line of gaze, Hermione giggled, and got into the car ahead of Harry, trying to organize the books, so that Harry would have a place to sit, while Hermione's father wrestled Harry's trunk into the boot of the car.

"I really cannot thank you enough for this Mr. Granger," Harry said as they drove away.

"It was nothing Harry. Any time you want to stay, you are more than welcome, just write us or phone, if you can. And call me Alan," Mr. Granger replied.

A few minutes later, they had pulled into the drive of the Grangers' home. Harry was amused to see that the building in which Mr. and Mrs. Granger ran their dental practice was just next door. The house, however, was a nicely sized two-story building painted, Harry could see in the nearly nonexistent light, a dull cream color.

"I'd give you a tour, Harry," Hermione said, "of the garden and our pool out back, but I think the light's just a _hair _too low."

"Wow, Hermione, I didn't know you had a sense of humor," Harry teased. She smacked him lightly on the arm Dudley had hit, causing Harry to wince.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry!" Hermione gasped, and then shook her head, "I can't believe they treat you like that! How could they?!"

"Come on, you two," Mr. Granger called from the door, "Emily's got dinner ready!" Slightly apprehensively, Harry followed Hermione inside.

"Hello, Harry!" Emily Granger said cheerily as Harry approached and she looked up from the platter of what appeared to be roast duck. Harry's senses went into overdrive. Aunt Petunia had never made such fare, even for dinner guests as important as the Bouquets, and even when she made her renowned veal dishes, Harry was, of course, forbidden to eat it. Harry reckoned he was salivating enough to fill a small lake, but how could he not? The duck smelled better than heavenly.

"Well, I think we have one very hungry tenant here, so I don't think we should put this meal off any longer," Mr. Granger said, chuckling at Harry's obvious longing. Everyone sat down, the elder Grangers at the heads of the table, and Harry and Hermione sat opposite each other. Mrs. Granger began filling up plates for everyone. Harry noticed that she put a bit more duck on his plate than the other plates.

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Harry said in an awestruck voice.

"You're welcome, Harry, and call me Emily." She replied. Alan Granger reached for a bottle of wine that his wife had put out with the rest of the food. He began filling glasses. Both Harry and Hermione were shocked when he gave them each a glass, though they were not filled as full as the adults' glasses were.

"We're very honored to have you as our guest for the rest of the summer," he said to Harry, "it's not often that we have the pleasure of hosting one of our daughter's best friends for an extended stay, and Emily and I very much wanted to celebrate. Tuck in." Harry grinned and attacked his food with almost indecent enthusiasm, eating with a gusto that surprised even himself. The only people who could cook food he enjoyed this much was Mrs. Weasley and the cooking staff at Hogwarts, and as he tore into the duck, Harry admitted to himself that he thought Emily Granger's cooking skills could give Mrs. Weasley's a run for their money.

"I don't know if I want to know what your aunt and uncle feed you, Harry," Emily said, watching Harry eat his duck wide-eyed.

"Sorry," Harry said, swallowing a large ball of her excellent garlic mashed potatoes, "but you do miss these things when you live off of nothing but grated celery sticks and a bit of cottage cheese." Harry noticed that both Hermione and Emily's eyes had narrowed, but both refrained from saying anything, for which Harry was grateful. He didn't feel much like talking about how the Dursleys treated him. Harry sipped at the little sample of wine Alan Granger had given him, and was surprised to discover that, though he did not care at all for the bitter taste, he enjoyed the feeling of mild burning in his stomach.

Later, the meal complete, Harry and the Grangers all leaned back in their seats, the tryptophan from the duck causing them all to feel pleasantly drowsy. Hermione was making small talk with her parents, while Harry sat comfortably back in his chair, digesting his extravagant meal.

_So this is what it's like to be part of a family,_ Harry thought, feeling envious of Hermione.

"Does anyone want to watch a movie?" Alan asked. Hermione nodded, as did Harry, and Hermione was amused to notice how vigorously he did so. Alan led them all into the very comfy looking living room, where Alan insisted that the guest pick out the movie. Harry, who had never been allowed to watch a movie in his life—he barely managed to be able to sneak moments just watching broadcast TV when the Dursleys were out—had no idea which of the movies might be a fun watch, so he closed his eyes, and ran his finger over the spines of the VHS cases, deciding they would watch the one his finger landed on when he opened his eyes. Twice, he opened his eyes to find that his finger was resting between two VHS cases, but on the third try, he landed on a film called '_Spartacus_', which both Hermione and Alan proclaimed as a favorite, and so they watched. It seemed that films about violent slave revolts in the time of the Roman Empire was not enough to counteract the tryptophan in Hermione's case, and about three quarters of the way through the film, Harry turned to see her fast asleep on his shoulder. Harry grinned, as did Alan, but Emily looked wary, but said nothing. After the film was over, Harry allowed Emily to pick Hermione up and take her to her bedroom.

"Come here, Harry, I'll show you the guest bedroom," Alan said, "I've already put your trunk in there so you'll have some clean clothes in the morning. Emily and I have to be at work by six-thirty, so don't be surprised or worried if we aren't here when you get up, okay?" Harry nodded, and Alan led him into the guest room, and failed to stifle the gasp that escaped him.

Comparatively, he doubted even Dudley had a room this big. There was a dresser leaning against the far wall, beside which were a couple full-length French windows. The bed was a queen sized bed that was up against the east wall with plush pillows, clean, crisp white sheets and a beautiful forest-green blanket. Opposite the bed was a desk with a simple swivel chair and beside the desk was a door to the bathroom.

"Hermione's room is next door to you, and you share a bath, so if you have to go in the night, make sure that you check to see if the light is on or not. Emily and I are across the hall, and we have a bathroom too, which you could use, but we like to call it ours, and if Hermione is in your shared bathroom there is another one down in the south wing, where our library is. I'm sure Hermione will show you that room first thing tomorrow, but I warn you, that particular bathroom has no shower, so in the morning, I'm afraid you two will have to be patient with each other." Alan explained. He then walked to the door, and turned back to Harry, framed there, and smiled.

"Good night, Harry," he said, and shut the door gently behind him.

As Alan had said, he and his wife were gone by the time Harry woke up. He noticed, when he went into the bathroom, that it did not appear that Hermione had showered yet, so he guessed she must be sleeping still. Quickly, Harry got undressed, deciding, for safety's sake, to lock both doors to his and Hermione's rooms before he jumped into the stream of water. When he was done, he only just remembered to unlock Hermione's door before he went back into his own room to put on some clean clothes. Once dressed, he made his way down to the kitchen to fix himself—and possibly one other specific person—breakfast.

A few minutes later, Hermione ambled down, looking half-asleep and still in her pajamas. Harry tried not to stare at her in those pajamas that seemed to radiate her personality—light blue in color, loose-fitting, fluffy and simple, and how cute she looked, both in her half-awake state and in those pajamas.

_What is going on with me? That's the third time I've thought of Hermione this way. What is wrong with me??!! _Harry thought.

"Good morning, Hermione," he called cheerily out loud, "I thought I was the late riser between the two of us."

"Har, har, Potter," Hermione replied in sleepy sarcasm.

"Here, I made you breakfast," Harry said, pushing a second omelet at her.

"Oh, Harry, you didn't have to make me breakfast," Hermione said.

"I know," he replied, "but I wanted to. Call it an offering of thanks for letting me stay here for the summer."

"Dad's right, you know, it's very nice to have you here," she responded. Harry grinned and tucked into his own omelet. After breakfast, Harry, after overriding Hermione's objections, took care of the dishes while she retreated back upstairs to take a shower and get clothed in day clothes. When she returned, she offered Harry a proper tour, starting, as her father had thought, with the south wing library on the second floor. The first floor library, Hermione explained, was what her parents considered their office, an integral part of their dental practice and was a private room which even she had no access to. Then she led him around the rooms he had not yet seen. There was another guest room in the south wing beside the third bathroom Alan had told Harry about, as well as a lounge for parties. The garage served as a place to put the Bentley in foul weather, and also as a play area. Alan had a billiard table in there as well as a fold up ping-pong table.

It was outside that Harry liked the best. Centered in the backyard was a well-proportioned swimming pool, around the circumference of which ran a flower garden that was haphazardly shaped, but blooming spectacularly with all sorts of flowers in no particular order. Hermione confessed that the garden had been her idea when she was six, and had been a joint venture between her mother and herself. Emily had overseen most of the yard work, but Hermione had chosen what flowers to plant, and where and even sowed a few seeds herself. Hermione had remarked that someone like Aunt Petunia would probably not have approved, to which Harry replied that he thought that the disorder made it all the more enjoyable and said that it looked just like her. Hermione blushed at the compliment. Behind the pool was an old swing set left over from Hermione's early childhood. Harry looked at the slide with a delighted expression.

"I want to try the slide," he declared.

"Aren't you a bit old for that?" Hermione asked in a teasing voice.

"Never," Harry responded, and took off toward the slide, "come on, Hermione!" Grinning foolishly, Hermione took off after him, and for a good hour played on the set as though they were toddlers. Harry, Hermione reflected sadly, probably did not have much of a childhood. They were so engrossed in their play that they did not notice the elder Grangers return with take-out lunch. Grinning, Emily pointed out the kids to her husband.

"Harry! Hermione!" Alan called, grinning like the Cheshire cat, "we got some lunch, come and join us!" Harry dropped off the monkey bars he had been chasing Hermione across, grinning in a mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. The rest of the day went by very well. The weather had been good, and over lunch, Alan had helped Hermione open up the pool, and had allowed HaHarry to borrow a pair of his swimming trunks so that he and Hermione could go swimming later on if they wished, while Hermione and Emily made plans to go shopping with Harry to get him some clothes that fit for once. Everything, at least at that point, seemed to be going well.

BREAK

She didn't know why, but as Emily Granger's forty-fourth birthday grew ever nearer, she began to find herself getting out of bed after midnight, craving late-night snacks. The only other time she'd been so devoted to food was when she was carrying Hermione. Oh well, she reflected, at least now I'm craving things like cheese and parsley, and not donuts like I did then. As she was making her way down to the kitchen, she passed her daughter's room and the room where Harry was sleeping. She was shocked to hear moans from the guest room. She frowned to herself. The last time she had heard crying from behind closed doors was when Hermione was five and had performed her first accidental magic in front of her uncle, who had never been particularly attached to Hermione, who had then made some very upsetting comments to Hermione, greatly distressing and humiliating her. Hermione had fled to the sanctuary of her room and had cried for two hours straight, breaking Emily's heart, to see Hermione's heart so shattered. As she listened, though, there was no doubt in her mind that it was not her daughter who was crying this time. Softly, she knocked on the door. When Harry did not answer, she cautiously opened the door.

Sure enough, Harry was lying spread-eagled on his bed, softly sobbing, as though embarrassed. Emily's heart went out to the poor boy as she slowly moved towards him.

"Harry?" she said softly. He made no indication that he had heard her.

"Harry?" she said again, sitting down beside him. Startled, he quickly assumed a sitting position, furiously trying to hide the fact that he had been crying.

"It's okay Harry; you shouldn't feel ashamed of crying," she said, "are you okay?"

"I'm…fine," Harry said gruffly and unconvincingly. Emily put her hand on his shoulders. "Had a nightmare," he said cryptically and more gruffly still. Emily's other hand went down to Harry's own, holding it comfortingly tight.

"What was it you were thinking about?" she asked him. Harry paused a minute. He really didn't like talking about such things, and yet, he couldn't help feeling safe in Emily's presence.

"Er…my uncle," Harry finally revealed, "he did things to me…before I got my Hogwarts letter…it's practically ironic, really, how he knew that I was magical long before I got my letter, and yet, after I started attending the school and befriending people like Hagrid, they got nicer to me, cause they were so bloody scared…but before…Uncle Vernon was so sure he could beat it all out of me. And just because I was magical, I spent my life sleeping in a cupboard for ten years, being punched by either Dudley or Uncle Vernon, yelled at by Aunt Petunia for…Merlin knows what and being forced to be second-best to Dudley…" he choked on a sob.

Emily suddenly felt a wave of rage go out to the Dursleys. She had been shocked when she had seen her daughter's blatant looks of hatred towards Vernon Dursley on the platform off of the train coming back from school, but now she firmly understood what Hermione had felt, and decided then and there that she wanted to tear the Dursleys limb from limb with her own hands. If Alan or Hermione wanted to help her, though, she would let them.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. Was that what your nightmare was about?"

"No…well, yes…sort of…I…it was when I was four, shares of stock in Uncle Vernon's company were falling, and he had gone out to drown his sorrows, and had come home drunk. Well, of course, the Dursleys always blamed everything on me. It was like a mantra they lived by: If something's wrong, it's Potter's fault, and so, naturally, Uncle Vernon blamed the falling of the stocks on me…that was the first night he…he belted me. But he also treated it like sex, and gave me a few punches with his fist as a sort of foreplay, then stretched me out and undid his belt, and whipped me raw. When he was done, Aunt Petunia yelled at me for whimpering and getting blood from my cuts on the rug, and then sent me to my cupboard without any dinner. And all I wanted was for someone to hold me. I had never wanted my Mum more than I did at that moment. All I wanted was for someone to cuddle and kiss me, sing me a lullaby and tell me that the pain would go away and that they loved me. All I wanted was someone who cared. Is that too much for me to ask? Is it too much for someone to love me as I am? There was a mirror at school that, if you looked in it, told you your heart's deepest desire and what I saw was my mother and father and a family that loved me. That's all I've ever; all I ever will want." He paused. "I want a mother, is that too much to ask?" he asked again.

"Oh Harry," Emily whispered, "it's not too much to ask at all." She reached over and pulled him into a hug. At first, Harry stiffened up, but then he relaxed into her embrace. Emily doubled the force of her hug, kissing and cuddling him and singing to him '_A Little Fall of Rain_' Hermione's favorite lullaby from the Muggle musical '_Les Miserables_' and told him the pain would go away. After a few minutes, Harry's muscles relaxed as he fell back asleep in Emily's lap. Gently, she moved him back onto the bed, tucked him back in, and gave him one last kiss on the forehead.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered in his ear. After checking in on Hermione and giving her a kiss too, Emily went back to her own room, all thoughts of a midnight snack forgotten, climbed in her bed, snuggled up to Alan and quietly cried herself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

Remus Lupin arose at six o' clock in his dreary little cabin that was just outside of Hogsmeade. Many weren't aware that it even existed, which was handy for Remus, because it meant that he didn't have to pay the rent. Since becoming an adult Werewolf, Lupin had found himself unable to get paid work, except for the occasional dirt-paying job that he never held for too long. He sighed, moving into the kitchen to fry up breakfast.

Using the pseudonym John (his father's name and his middle name) Powell (his mother's maiden name), Remus had been able to get hold of a subscription to the Daily Prophet, the wizarding newspaper, though he thought that if he didn't cancel soon, he would likely bankrupt himself. The Prophet had done one good thing, though, for earlier in the summer, he had noticed an advertisement saying that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry once again had an open spot on their faculty: Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lupin had been delighted that it paid well, and had realized later that James and Lily's son, Harry, would probably be attending now, and Remus was beside himself with joy that he might see his best friend's son again, who had been about three months old the last time he had seen him. Remus had eagerly applied, and Dumbledore had just as eagerly taken him on. A little too eagerly if possible, and normally, Remus would have been suspicious, but he was too excited at the prospect of seeing Harry again to really care about Dumbledore's odd move. Little did Remus know, the answer to his question was in that morning's edition of the Prophet.

Remus sat down at his table, nursing a cup of coffee that would have started to leak, had Remus not put a charm on it to keep it together, and found the owl that delivered the Prophet waiting obediently. Remus extracted the money to pay the owl, and then unfolded the paper, while taking a sip of coffee, which he spat right out again. There, in big bold letters across the front page was the headline:

**BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN**

**Ministry insures public safety; Dementors to be placed at Hogwarts**

By Abraxamus Willowweed

SPEAKING from his office earlier this week, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge has confirmed that the notorious killer and known Voldemort supporter Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban Prison where he was being held for the murder of thirteen Muggles…

Rage such as Remus had never felt towards his former other best friend flowed through his body like poison. Remus had known, of course, that Sirius had been James and Lily Potter's secret keeper, and had been the only one who knew about where James and Lily were in hiding, so that they could attempt to raise Harry away from the threat of Voldemort. Knowing that James and Lily were dead, and that he had been secret keeper, Remus knew that Sirius had turned them in.

"How could you, Sirius? How could you do that to your best friend? James trusted you like a brother, Sirius, and this is how you repay him? You were going to be Harry's guardian, and do you know where he lives now? I thought you were our friend." Tears of anger and betrayal pooled in Remus' eyes. He wrinkled up his paper, and chucked his mug, coffee and all at the far wall, where it shattered. Remus roared in a not entirely human way, his fists clenched. His eyes were beginning to dilate and turn a yellowish color.

Taking deep, steadying breaths, Remus forced himself to calm down. If he let his anger control him, he might transform prematurely, which was not advisable, and besides, he had to go to Hogwarts. It was ridiculously silly, but Hogwarts staff had to return to the school four or five weeks earlier than the students (although Dumbledore had insisted Remus come when he felt like it). Picking up his worn briefcase, and putting on his even more worn traveling cloak, Remus opened the door to leave. And stopped dead. There, lying peacefully in his garden was a black dog that was a little larger than your average dog. It was a dog that Remus would never forget. It was the dog who had been at his side through thick and thin…or so he thought.

"Get out of here, Black! Go! You're not welcome here any more, you filthy traitor! Go away, you mongrel of a mutt!" The tears that had pooled in Remus' eyes fell as he observed the dog. As Remus, no longer caring about going to Hogwarts that day specifically, turned to go back inside, the dog transformed back into Sirius Black, the escaped convict, Harry Potter's godfather, former best friend of James Potter and Remus Lupin, and Voldemort follower.

"Nice to see you, too," Sirius said dryly. Remus' head whipped around, shock evident in his face.

"What if I told you," Sirius said carefully, "that this whole thing was a mess up of astronomical proportions? That maybe…just maybe…I'm innocent?"

"It would take a _very _good story to convince me," Remus replied gruffly, "I can't believe you would do that to James, Sirius! He never treated you with anything under absolute respect and love. And Lily loved you like a brother, and do you know where Harry has to live now, all because of you!!"

"Shut _up_!!" Sirius roared, his voice hoarse from thirteen years of disuse, sounding like it was going to tear. "Do you really think that I would do that?! Do you think my feelings for James aren't exactly the same? Do you think I want Harry living with those pathetic excuses for human beings? Yes, Remus, I spied on him, and my heart broke for the way he's treated. People say I've done wrong, and I want to bloody make it right!!"

"You're not convincing me, Black! I will protect Harry from you at all costs!"

"It's not like that, Remus!"

"What is it like? If you want me to believe that you are innocent, I need you to show me the proof, Black!!"

"Here!" Sirius took a very beaten clipping of the front page of the Daily Prophet out of his foul back pants pocket. Remus frowned.

"This is a picture of the Weasley family," he said, frowning.

"Look at the vermin on the youngest boy's shoulder," Sirius said, contempt in his voice.

"Looks like a normal rat to me. Can't see how it would make a good pet, but…"

"Look at his left paw, fool!" Sirius snarled. Focusing on the appendage in question, Remus let his breath out slowly.

"My god, that's…that's Wormtail. So…so…you switched? And didn't tell me?" Sirius looked exhausted.

"Yes," he said, "it became clear to me when we started talks of going into hiding that everyone, including Voldemort's minions, would assume that I was the secret keeper for James and Lily. I convinced them to switch to Pettigrew at the last minute, as a bluff. I reasoned that if no one, not even you, Remus, knew, then people would come after me to get me to reveal James and Lily's location. I might have been seriously injured, or even died from torture, but as long as Pettigrew kept silent…for who would think that James would trust someone like him with their biggest secret?" he sighed. "Forgive me, Remus. I deserve every bit of the bitterness you've thrown at me, but I hope you believe me when I say that I would _never _have betrayed James or Lily, and I most certainly wouldn't have wanted anything bad to happen to Harry…but I did, and it was in part, my fault."

"There's just one thing I don't understand? Who, then, killed all those Muggles?"

"He did. The moment I realized that Pettigrew had been the traitor I tracked him down, and found him in a busy London street. I had my wand trained on him, but in a moment of cleverness I could not have foreseen with him, he blasted all those Muggles himself with his wand behind his back, after yelling out to anyone who could hear that I had betrayed James and Sirius, and then the kamikaze coward cut his own finger off and then transformed. It all happened so fast that any Muggle would have rightfully thought that I had done it." Remus looked down at Sirius for a few moments and then roughly extended his hand, which Sirius took, and Remus helped him to his feet, and the two embraced like brothers.

"Moony, I want to see Harry," Sirius said after a minute.

"I know, Padfoot, but we have to orchestrate this carefully, since all of wizarding Britain still believes you responsible for these things. Oh, for Merlin's sake, Padfoot, come inside and have breakfast. It looks like a home cooked meal could do you a power of good." Smiling broadly, Sirius followed his best friend into his house, eagerly anticipating his first true meal in thirteen years.

BREAK

Emily Granger decided that, despite the fact that she knew —how she knew was a mystery, even to her—Harry would not like it, she decided to tell Alan and Hermione about what Harry had revealed to her last night.

"Those selfish, heartless randy fuckers!!" Alan roared. "How could they treat him like that? I will _never ever _buy another Grunnings drill! We've got to do something! I refuse to allow Harry to return to them!" Hermione sat down, sighing sadly.

"We should do something, dear," Emily said, "but we need to think about it all." Alan was on a rant, however, and did not appear to have heard his wife.

"…and I should call Chris at his office. He's supposed to be the absolute best in family law…"

"Come on, we should be preparing breakfast," Hermione said, breaking up her father's monologue. Followed by her parents, Hermione walked into the kitchen and began frying up a quick breakfast alongside her mother.

Harry did not show up for breakfast, and the three Grangers ate alone, constantly shooting each other anxious looks. Finally, Hermione pushed her plate aside.

"I'm going to go look for Harry," she announced and got up from the table. It didn't take her long to find him. He was sitting beside the pool, soaking his feet in the water, looking pensive. Without him immediately noticing, Hermione joined him, dipping her own feet in.

"Harry, are you all right?" she asked him.

"I'm fine," he replied distantly.

"Please tell me, Harry," she said, unconvinced.

"I'm fine," he repeated defensively, but then melted under Hermione's kindly but inquiring gaze.

"Er…your mother found me last night after I…er…had a nightmare and she…you know…comforted me…"

"Mum told me and Dad about that," Hermione responded, "Harry, I…I know you probably don't want my pity, or my parents', but I am sorry, Harry. For the life of me, I can't think of what you did to deserve their treatment of you." She put her arm around his shoulders.

"Thanks, Mione," Harry said.

"You called me Mione," Hermione replied.

"Do you mind if I call you that?" he asked worriedly, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't offend me," Hermione said, "my Aunt Fiona was the first one to call me that, and I loved Aunt Fiona, but she's dead now, so the name has come to be something only those I love can call me."

"Do I count?" Harry asked nervously.

"Yes," she said, blushing furiously, "you count, Harry."

"I'm sorry about your aunt."

"Thanks. When you and Mum talked last night, did she tell you about Uncle Pat? He was an awful lot like your uncle, Harry. He was Mum's brother, and he absolutely _hated _magic, and so…well…he hated me, because I was what I was. He even suggested that Mum and Dad beat it out of me. Said he owned an extra thick belt that he would be happy to loan dad, and he suggested that I was the devil's child, and he doubted that Mum actually carried me…he said I was a burden on my parents, and that I was un…unworthy of their love…I don't understand how Aunt Fiona married him. She was the exact opposite of him, and died in a coma, just after my fifth birthday party. He beat her, just because she had cuddled me after opening her present." Upon seeing her reflection in the pool, Hermione noted with disgust that tears were flowing down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Mione," Harry said softly, "I had no idea. Come here." He offered his arms to her, and she let him hold her, surprised by how gently he held her.

"I promise to be here for you at all times, Mione," Harry pledged. Hermione merely snuggled in closer to him. Neither one knew why being in the other's embrace felt so right, nor did they know that they had just given off a fairly strong pulse of magic that, many miles away, Albus Dumbledore, sitting in his office at Hogwarts, felt. He looked up from the proposal he was writing for Minister Fudge and half frowned, half smiled.

Back at the Granger residence, Hermione and her mother were preparing to make a grand pudding to celebrate the fact that Harry and Hermione would be returning to school, while Alan Granger was out in the garage teaching Harry how to play pool.

"Emily told me about your dream, Harry," Alan said as he placed the balls inside the triangle.

"Er…that's right," Harry responded uneasily.

"You break," Alan said gesturing to where he had placed the cue ball on the opposite side. Harry lined up his shot and feebly sent the cue ball towards the triangle, and broke it, just barely sending the number two ball into the left corner pocket.

"Nice," Alan said, "you're solids, Harry. Anyway, I was just thinking after you told Emily what you had dreamt about…"

"Yes, about that," Harry said, interrupting Alan, "look, I'm sorry if I was a burden, and I know you should have been checking in on Hermione, but…"

"Do you think you are less deserving of our attention and affection than Hermione?" Alan asked, frowning.

"Well, she is your daughter."

"Yes, and I love her, and would do anything for her, but from her first day at Hogwarts, she always wrote home to us, and she would always mention you at a minimum of once per letter, frequently more, and I knew from the times that I read what she said about you that I would be honored to meet the person who befriended my daughter. I don't know if she ever told you, but before she went to Hogwarts, she didn't have an easy time making friends, so it meant a lot to her that you would befriend her, and when I first met you, and we had our first real conversation when we were in the car driving you away from your aunt and uncle's house, I realized that you were indeed every bit as special as Hermione made you out to be in her letters –" Harry blushed a bit " – and I realized, I think, that I have always loved you. Maybe not exactly a son, but pretty damn close. Anyone who can make my daughter smile—and there are precious few who can—is someone I will respect. You are every bit as deserving of my love, and Emily's as Hermione is." For the most part, Alan and Harry concluded their pool game in silence, occasionally making general small talk. A quarter of an hour, Harry only just got the eight ball in the corner pocket, narrowly winning the game, though Alan had only one striped ball left, and could easily have battled Harry for the title. Touched by Alan's reassurances, Harry returned to the house with Alan and a new spring in his step.

In the house, Hermione and her mother were cuddling on the couch, having finished making the night's meal.

"May we join you?" Alan asked, approaching the couch. Emily nodded, scooting over to make room for the men. Harry sat down beside Hermione, and Alan beside Harry. The four of them just sat there for a few minutes until the grandfather clock from the lounge chimed that it was five thirty.

"We'd better get dinner on the table," Emily said. Both Harry and Hermione jumped up and went into the kitchen to help set up the table. A few minutes after that, they were all tucking in to another fabulous meal.

"I'm sorry that you two have to go back to school so soon," Alan said over his roast chicken. It was true, Harry noticed with a start. He had totally blanked out the fact that he had gotten his Hogwarts letter the day he had ended up having his nightmare, and the day before that, the Grangers had thrown him a spectacular birthday party, the first true party he'd ever had, and he wondered if that was part of the reason that he had ended up with that dream. Harry was also inwardly surprised that the summer had flown by so quickly.

"Tomorrow we're all going to go into Diagon Alley to get all your new school supplies," Emily said, "and if you two are into rising a little earlier, we can get Harry a new wardrobe as well, and then we plan to stay at the Leaky Cauldron before seeing you both onto the train the following day."

The following day, Alan aroused Harry at six and had led him down to the kitchen, followed shortly by Emily and Hermione. Quickly, Alan fried up some bacon and eggs.

"Are you kids all packed?" he asked after they were finished. Harry nodded, but Hermione, blushing, said that there were a few more books she said she needed to take along.

At six thirty, Harry and Alan were loading the trunks in the back of the Bentley. Harry grinned when he noticed that Hermione's trunk was a fair bit heavier than his own. Harry and Hermione then climbed in the back, securing Hedwig's cage on the middle portion of the seat. Hedwig hooted glumly. Car travel really didn't suit her.

As they were nearing the street that housed the Muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione spotted a department store, and suggested that Harry get himself some new Muggle clothes, as she reasoned that those were the only ones that didn't truly fit. Alan pulled over and the four of them got out and Hermione led Harry over to the men's section. Not all that fashion conscious, Harry let Hermione and her mother pick out most of the clothes for him to try on, while Alan looked on with amusement at the enjoyment his women were taking out of selecting Harry's new wardrobe. Harry nixed a few of the clothes they brought him, but not many. Hermione went over to check out day suits while her mother, to Harry's embarrassment, went looking for some new underwear. Hermione later returned with two suits, one a blazing emerald green, the other a gorgeous navy blue, the third a simple cream color that was very casual, looking like the color that the Grangers' house had been painted. Harry loved all the suits, but decided to have a little fun with Hermione.

"Green?" he asked in mock astonishment, "a _Slytherin_ color? How could you, Hermione?"

"I just thought you'd like something that would…bring out the color in your eyes, but obviously you don't so…so I'll take it back." Harry was unable to contain his laughter any more.

"No, no, Hermione, I love the suit. I just wanted to play around with you," he said chuckling. Hermione shook her head, and put the green suit back in the cart, just as her mother dropped a healthy number of underwear on top of that, which Hermione said, after inventorying their choices, should conclude their shopping. Harry and the others agreed, and they went to pay. Alan paid, but agreed to let Harry reimburse him when they visited Gringotts later that day.

Gringotts had been a relatively quick trip. Alan and Emily had exchanged enough Muggle pounds to Galleons, Sickles and Knuts to pay for Hermione's new school supplies, while Harry went down to his vault with one of the goblins to take out approximately the same amount. When he returned, he gave another goblin the receipt from his earlier clothing purchases, and asked him to withdraw the corresponding number in Galleons and to have it exchanged back to pounds for Alan. The goblin nodded.

"Before I forget, sir," the goblin added, handing the receipt to another goblin, "Griphook, your family account manager wishes to speak with you when you have a moment."

"Thank you sir, may I arrange to meet with him directly after we have finished business?"

"Certainly, sir," the goblin replied. Harry turned to the Grangers.

"I don't know what they want to meet me for, and I don't know how long it will take, so either you three can continue shopping and I'll catch up, or if you are okay to wait…"

"I tell you what, Harry, we'll all go to that ice cream parlor and have a little snack while you conduct your business, and we'll meet up with you there so that we can still shop together. Oh, and Harry, do keep an eye out. With that Sirius Black fellow we told you and Hermione about, I doubt it's too wise to go wandering." Alan said. Harry nodded.

"See you later then," he responded, earning a nod from Alan.

"Good day, Mr. Potter," Griphook the goblin said at Harry's left. The Grangers took that as their cue, and with a wave, departed for Fortescue's ice cream parlor.

"Good day, Griphook, sir, it's a pleasure seeing you again," Harry responded, recalling that it was a good rule of thumb to always be polite to the goblins, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?"

"Please, Mr. Potter, come with me to my office," Griphook instructed. Harry nodded, and followed him into the office.

It was a small room, just big enough to hold two Muggle office cubicles, Harry reckoned. It was made of stone and slate, and had no windows, but rather than feel like a prison, as it would have seemed because of its building materials, the stone and the slate had been imperceptibly smoothed out and painted in a dim metallic grey. There was a desk that was kept, for the most part, completely clear, but there were two spikes labeled 'in' and 'out' with several bits of parchment impaled on each, and a stack of parchment held together by a paperclip. Pictures lined the walls, most of which were landscape photos of what appeared to be northern Scotland, but along the wall that was behind the desk were two degrees from the Ministry goblin training program. Behind the desk were shelves of large and heavy looking tomes of what Harry assumed were clients that Griphook managed.

"Well now," Griphook grunted, lifting down a tome that was almost twice his size labeled 'Potter', "may I offer you my heartiest congratulations on the beginning of your soul bond? My deepest congratulations to your bond mate, too, whoever they are."

"I'm soul bonded to someone?" Harry asked in disbelief, "do you know who, sir?"

"Alas, no. As it is, the Ministry of Magic considers a soul bond such a rare occurrence that we goblins are only privy to the information that a bond has been formed, and not whom the two parties are, unless there is due reason to know. In this case, Mr. Potter, the start of your bond alters your status with us. You are now considered an adult by this institution, and you will now be allowed to access your vault in its entirety."

"Sir, don't I have access to my vault now?"

"Not in its entirety. What you have access to now is the vault where your parents have left a specified amount of their money to be in a trust for your education purposes. The Potter family vault is much larger, and you have more than just money in that vault—and you have a lot of money at that—you now have access to several property deeds in your parents' names, information on some of the Muggle airlines and hotels you now own and other things of that nature."

"How much money do I have?"

"More, even, than the Malfoy family, another very old family. You see, Mr. Potter, your wealth is the collective total of I believe seven generations of savings. You have about 6.5 million Muggle pounds in total. You are what Muggles and wizards alike would call 'filthy rich' and, should you choose, you would not have to work a day in your life, however, I urge you to work for a living anyway, as both your parents and grandparents did as well, so that you can leave a healthy amount for your own children when you go.

"Now, on a similar note," Griphook opened the 'Potter' tome to a specific page and snapped his fingers. A small shoebox appeared. "May I suggest that you look at this when you are alone at some point? This shoebox contains stuff that will be intensely personal to you. It is policy here at Gringotts that parents put in a bit of a memento for their children if they should pass on, leaving pictures, a letter…whatever you want so that the child will know who their parents are and what they have left specifically, fiscal or otherwise, for the child. I know you are far too young to be thinking about children yet, Mr. Potter, so we shall not be burdening you with that task just yet, however when that happy day does come, we shall ask the same of you." Harry nodded, his mind beginning to go numb.

"Mr. Potter, I think that covers all of importance right now. Do you have any questions?" Harry thought about it for a moment, and then the memory of his earlier shopping spree coming to mind, and the inefficiency of settling up with Alan Granger.

"Yes, is there a way I could have access to my money in the Muggle world? It's a bit tiresome to have to always have to exchange Galleons to pounds and then, if I owe a Muggle money, having to change the pounds to Galleons and then back again. Muggles have these things called debit cards that can make things easier."

"Yes, indeed," Griphook answered, "Gringotts can indeed give you a debit card that should help make your transactions in the Muggle world much easier. There is a small activation and registration fee, but if you agree to that, then just sign there." Harry did, and Griphook snapped his fingers again and a debit card came out of thin air. Griphook gave it to Harry, who put it in his wallet.

"Oh, and now that you have access to your family vault, you will find that Gringotts keeps very much on top of your finances, so a monthly balance statement will be owled to you every month now. That's all, I think," Griphook said. Harry nodded, and moved towards the door, then stopped.

"Griphook, sir, I know you don't know who my bond mate is, but…er…I spent almost the entire summer with one of my friends from Hogwarts and her family, and…er…I've grown close to her, and…" Harry was blushing furiously now, "…every time she and I…you know…hug or are close to each other…it feels…er…right." Harry stammered sheepishly. Griphook grinned.

"I am hardly the best person to ask, Mr. Potter, but it does sound quite possible that this young woman may be your bond mate. I suggest asking someone more familiar with such things to be absolutely certain."

"Thank you for everything, Griphook, sir," Harry said, bowing to the goblin, "and good day."

"Good day, Mr. Potter," the goblin said, also bowing, and Harry left his office.

Harry found the others a little bit later. They appeared to have eaten a lot of ice cream in his absence and Hermione was now studying and massaging her stomach. Harry hoped that she hadn't eaten too much ice cream and was sick.

"Ah, Harry, there you are, took you long enough!" Alan called cheerily, "come on, let's finish our shopping." So they did. Quickly, as Hermione really did look a bit sick, they went through the shops of Diagon Alley, buying new robes, potion ingredients, parchment, quills, ink, etc., etc. Harry delayed the group a bit by looking longingly at a stunning new prototype broomstick advertised in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, called the Firebolt. He groaned, knowing that he had more than enough money to buy it, but reasoned that there were better things he could spend his Galleons on. A healer for Hermione, for instance. About an hour and a quarter later, the foursome returned to the Leaky Cauldron, where Alan had already booked rooms while Harry had been at Gringotts.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Tom the landlord called out upon seeing him, "the Minister for Magic wishes to see you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would like to, now that I have put in a few changes in this story, express gratitude from a fellow author, 'draregerreip' for assisting me with some inconsistencies in my total sum of Harry's finances being less than I wanted for the story. Thanks mate!!


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Harry cast a nervous glance back at the Grangers as Tom beckoned him to follow. The Grangers simply returned his uneasy gaze and Hermione gently indicated that Harry should follow Tom. Shrugging to himself, Harry allowed Tom to steer him into the inn's grandest suite.

"Good evening, Harry, I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic," Fudge said from the desk at the far side of the room, staring out of the window. Harry knew who he was, having seen him from beneath his father's invisibility cloak last year when he had come to get Hagrid. Fudge, however, wasn't to have known as Harry was, well, decidedly invisible.

"Good evening, Minister," Harry replied politely. Fudge smiled, turned to face him, and took a few strides over to where Harry was standing, shook his hand and cuffed him on the shoulder like a father.

"Please, have a seat, Harry," Fudge said, indicating the chair facing his desk. Harry sat, and the two merely glanced at each other for a moment.

"Crumpet?" Fudge offered. Harry shook his head.

"Minister, er…I'm not in trouble, am I, sir?" Harry asked, unable to contain his fear any longer.

"What? Oh, no! No, no dear boy, you aren't in trouble," Fudge said, "no this is about…we—ahem—have a killer on the loose. Surely by now you've been informed of Sirius Black? I want to stress upon you Harry that it would be very unwise to wander off on your own. I also must mention the magic you performed. Technically, it is underage magic, so…"

"But sir," Harry blurted out, cutting the Minister off, "I wasn't even aware I'd done anything. In fact, until I spoke to a goblin today, I didn't even know I was bonded, so I shouldn't…you know, be punished, right?"

"Dear Merlin, no!" Fudge exclaimed, actually laughing, "I merely meant that it is amazing that you, someone only thirteen, could begin a bond. Normally, the Ministry would indeed suspect that it was a prank pulled by someone to taunt another, and would have sent you a warning; however a colleague who works in the appropriate department confirmed that your bond is no prank, so naturally, all punishments will be waived. A soul bond is a precious thing, Mr. Potter, and it is supposed to be impossible in someone as young as yourself. Please, pass my congratulations on to your bond mate, whoever that lucky person may be.

"Now, it's getting late, and I reckon you will want to go to bed. After all, you will be returning to Hogwarts tomorrow, and I'm sure you want to be well rested. Tom!"

"Yes, Minister?"

"Kindly show Mr. Potter to his room, please, Tom, and here is an extra two Sickles for your time tonight."

"I think I can do that," Alan Granger said behind Tom, "come on Harry." Harry bade Tom and the Minister goodnight, and followed Alan from the Minister's suite.

"You're with Hermione tonight," Alan explained as he and Harry walked, "and I trust you implicitly that you will not harm my daughter, but nevertheless I'm going to ask that you do not do anything bad to her, and I will check up on the two of you during the night. Don't worry, you are in two different beds, and Emily and I are next door." Harry nodded as they stopped outside the correct door. Alan handed Harry the key.

"Oh, and by the way, Hermione isn't feeling so well; too much ice cream, I'm afraid, so she's already asleep. Try not to wake her."

"How bad was she?"

"Well, she was being sick for a bit there. Had Emily in a right state, I don't mind telling you, but I think the worst has worn off for now." Harry nodded again.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Alan." Harry inserted the key into the lock, and opened the door quietly. As he shut it, just as quietly, he saw Hermione had chosen the bed beside the window, and was bathed in moonlight. Harry could see that she was wearing her blue pajamas that he so loved, and her face showed that she was, for the most part, peaceful, but a slight crease in her forehead revealed her earlier upset stomach. Perhaps she had a headache as well? Harry suddenly had an impulsive and strong urge to kiss her exposed cheek, but fought it, sure that Alan would consider that one of the 'bad' things he had discouraged Harry from doing, so Harry merely stepped over to her, grinned at her sleeping body, and gently ran his thumb down her cheek, and then went into their bathroom to change into his own nightwear.

The next morning, Harry and Hermione were awoken by Emily who hurried them to take showers and get ready for breakfast. Both obeyed, Harry allowing himself to take his 10-minute limit shower which was a trademark Dursley rule for him, so that Vernon, Petunia and Dudley could be sure to have enough time and hot water to get good and clean. Now Harry wanted to make sure Hermione had enough time and hot water. The only difference was that Harry willingly gave up time for Hermione.

When they got to the tavern, Harry and Hermione were pleasantly surprised to see a group of many redheaded people around one of the tables chatting over cups of coffee.

"Hello, Harry!" Ronald Weasley called cheerily, "hello, Hermione!" Ron strode over to where Harry stood and cuffed him on the shoulder.

"Hey, Ron, it's great to see you, mate."

"Harry," Fred Weasley said, elbowing Ron out of the way and shaking his hand vigorously, "how splendid to see you."

"Absolutely spiffing," Fred's twin George agreed, elbowing Fred and bowing to Harry. Ginny Weasley, Ron, Fred and George's little sister giggled.

"Boys," Mrs. Weasley said warningly.

"Mum!" Fred said, turning and shaking Mrs. Weasley's hand, "how absolutely corking to see you!"

"Boys, I said that's enough!" she reprimanded, though she could not stop the corners of her mouth forming a small smile. Ginny was truly laughing now, and ran forward and embraced Hermione in a sisterly way, giving her just a little more than a peck on the cheek. When she faced Harry, her cheeks went pink, but Harry was quick to note that she didn't seem to be as flustered around him as she had been when she had been in his company last summer.

"Hello, Harry, it's great to see you!" she said cheerfully and earnestly.

"Thanks, Ginny, it's great to see you too." She smiled. Percy Weasley, the eldest Weasley sibling of the assembled group, stiffly and formally shook Harry and Hermione's hands and said a polite and diplomatic 'good day' to each in turn, causing the twins and Ginny to snort loudly into their plates while Ron rolled his eyes. Mr. Weasley made his greetings, completing the group, and everyone sat down together and tucked into breakfast. Harry and Hermione chuckled to see Mr. Weasley sit down beside Emily Granger and began to bombard her and Alan with questions about dentistry.

"Harry, Hermione, dears, did you get all your books and equipment?" Mrs. Weasley asked kindly, looking over at them.

"Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied.

"I had too much ice cream," Hermione said grinning, "I wanted…" suddenly she blushed darker than a tomato and left the sentence hanging. Mrs. Weasley chuckled and winked at her. Ron, on the other hand, was looking at both Harry and Hermione in a way that bothered Harry a bit. It seemed a little too meaningful to be Ron. Mr. Weasley must have noticed, for he cleared his throat and said,

"That was a lovely breakfast, wasn't it, children? However, I think we need to be heading along to King's Cross." The others nodded and got up. Mr. Weasley and Alan got up to pay Tom, who accepted Alan's Muggle pounds without complaint.

Ron, however, mentioned something about his pet rat, Scabbers, being a little off-color, and Mr. Weasley decided that they had enough time to stop at the magical pets shop in Diagon Alley. Harry decided to keep Ron company, and his own supply of owl treats for Hedwig was running low. Hermione's father looked at her, and gave her some extra money saying that she should get herself a birthday present that would be applicable in the magical world. Hermione voiced a desire to have an owl like Harry's. A few minutes later, the three walked up to the counter in the magical creature shop.

"Can I help you?" the saleswoman asked.

"Yes, it's my rat. Ever since we returned from Egypt, he's been looking a bit bad," Ron said.

"Bang him on the counter," the saleswoman instructed. Ron placed him on the counter, and after a few minutes of examining him with a magical lens, the saleswoman indicated that he had already lived a very long life for a common or garden rat, and that his apparent sickness was to be taken in stride. She suggested some very agile-looking black rats in a cage on the counter. When Ron denounced them as show-offs, the saleswoman shrugged and offered Ron a rat tonic that might help Scabbers recover some of his energy. They were just turning to leave when a medium-large ginger-colored cat leaped out of nowhere, seeming to attack Ron, but missed as Ron managed to duck sufficiently.

"Crookshanks, come back here!" An elderly man called from behind a screen behind the desk, where he was tending to caged up animals of all types.

"It's okay, Dad," the saleswoman called back, "everyone's okay!" She did not appear to hear Ron's dark mutterings about homicidal cats as he and Harry left. Hermione, however, remained behind to buy her owl, and the two boys waited patiently for her.

She emerged from the shop a few minutes later cuddling the very same cat that had tried to attack Ron a few minutes earlier.

"You bought that monster??" Ron asked, aghast.

"Yes," Hermione said, beaming, "the poor thing. According to the saleswoman, he's been there for ages; no one wanted him. Isn't he gorgeous?" Harry noted a sneer, eerily worthy of his archenemy Draco Malfoy, curl on Ron's face. He also noticed that Hermione had noticed too, and seemed frighteningly taken aback.

"He's not bad," Harry said, intervening, and it wasn't much of a lie. Crookshanks _was _a bit bowlegged and had a noticeably squat face, but after Harry complimented him, he could have sworn Crookshanks cast him a look that suggested that the cat was smiling. "Believe me, Ron, Mrs. Figg, my longtime babysitter has worse looking cats than him." Crookshanks suddenly leapt onto Harry's shoulder, showing a very good sense of balance, better indeed than most of the cats Harry had ever observed before, and purred loudly in Harry's ear before leaping back into Hermione's arms. Ron looked skeptically at Harry, as though he wanted to make a sharp reply, but chose to say instead,

"Come on, we should be heading to King's Cross if want to make the train."

Soon, Harry, the Weasleys and the Grangers were all on platform 93/4 saying their various goodbyes. Emily hugged Harry, who tried not to blush as he watched Ron's eyebrows shoot upward into his hair.

"Goodbye, Harry, I really enjoyed having you over for the summer," she said.

"Thank you for having me," Harry replied, as Emily moved over to hug Hermione. She lingered in her embrace with her daughter a bit longer than she had with Harry.

"You'll always be welcome in future summers," Alan told Harry as he shook his hand.

"Thanks again, for everything," Harry said again.

"It was nothing," Alan responded smiling, "just be sure to write now and again." Harry nodded, and went over to bid Mr. and Mrs. Weasley goodbye, sharing an amused glance with Ron over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder as Percy walked over to his girlfriend, pompously puffing out his chest so that she could not mistake the Head Boy badge glistening on the front of his overly immaculate robes. The train whistle blew, and the children waved at their parents one last time before boarding the train.

The only compartment available to Ron, Harry and Hermione was already taken up by an adult, seemingly sleeping peacefully, despite the constant chatter and yelps from the students as they sat down.

"Come on," Hermione said quietly, "everywhere else is full." Harry followed her in and sat down beside her, immediately causing a suspicious glance from Ron, but he refrained from saying anything. Instead, he sat down on Hermione's other side and looked at the sleeping man.

"Who do you think he is?" Ron asked.

"Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione answered at once.

"How do you know that?" Ron asked Hermione, who kept silent. He looked at Harry. "How is it she knows _everything_?" he asked Harry. Harry just shrugged.

"It's on his suitcase, Ronald," Hermione sighed.

"Oh."

The rest of the train ride was uneventful for the most part. Ron was quick to note that Harry and Hermione stole glances at each other more often within the train ride than they had all of last year. He also noted that they only made complete eye contact on one out of at least ten occasions. He sighed to himself, but said nothing, even though it looked like spending a summer together had changed his friends, and he didn't like it. All thoughts of his friends' peculiar behavior were driven out of his mind a few moments later when, for no reason at all, the train began to slow down.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked nervously, "we can't be there yet, it's too early." Subconsciously, it seemed, Harry found her hand and took it reassuringly.

"I think…blimey, I think something's moving out there…coming aboard." Ron said in a tense whisper. Suddenly, with an almighty bang, every light in the train went out, bathing everything in darkness. It was a strange type of darkness, though. It was cold, and Harry's skin felt unusually clammy, and a sense of fear was beginning to show itself in the back of his head and refused to go away. Haring her breath hitch beside him, Harry gave Hermione's hand a firm but comforting squeeze, and felt her return the gesture.

"Hello? Who's in here?" A familiar voice called out.

"We are," Ron responded.

"Honestly, Ron, it's dark, who's supposed to know who 'we are'?"

"Hermione?"

"Neville?"

"Come in and sit—ouch, Ron, that was my foot!"

"Hello, can I come in?"

"Ginny?"

"No, Hermione, I'm the thing that's making it all dark out."

"Yes, come in Ginny, you can—ouch—sit here."

"Not here! I'm here! Ouch!"

"Sorry, Harry."

"Ouch, Neville!"

"Sorry, Ron."

"Quiet!" Lupin had appeared to have awoken at last, holding a small amount of blue fire in his palm. He stood up, and started to make his way towards the door, when something got there first.

It was a monster…or that was Harry's first impression of the being. It sure looked like the monsters who evaded his dreams back when he was very young and afraid of the dark, towering tall above them all, hovering a few feet above the ground. The thing had no face, and it's death-black robes fanned out behind it like they were being rustled by winds, even though there was no wind at all just then. In the pulsating stillness, Harry could hear his heart beating many times louder than it should have. Suddenly, the thing turned it's head toward Harry and began to draw in a long rattling breath, and Harry felt himself loosing consciousness.

There was a woman screaming—he knew it—needed to get to her—she needed help. Badly. But he couldn't see her—desperate to find her—who was she? Suddenly, the scream was replaced by a much fainter sound—a train whistle—but why was there a train? He needed to get to the woman…

"Harry!" The voice was panicky, "Harry, wake up!" He felt a warm hand brush cold sweat off his face, and could see light coming inside his eyelids. Carefully, he opened them. He was in Hermione's lap, and she was gently rocking him. Neville was cuddling Ginny who, in Harry's opinion, looked far worse than he felt. Ron was sitting with a dazed look on his face.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, and with her help, sat down on the seat, fighting a small bout of nausea.

"How are you? Are you okay?" he asked, resting his hand on Hermione's shoulder. She nodded. "Neville?" He nodded in the same way. "Ginny?"

"So cold," she whimpered softly. Harry reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione asked him. He nodded, but his look was still dazed.

"What _was _that?" he asked absently.

"That, Ron," a warm voice said from the doorway, "was one of the guards of Azkaban prison. We call them Dementors. It was searching the train for Sirius Black." Lupin had returned, and began breaking a huge slab of chocolate into smaller pieces and handing them out. "Eat that," he said kindly, "it'll help. Now, I need to send an owl to Hogwarts. I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore will not be happy."

"He won't?" Harry asked.

"Oh, no. Dumbledore has never cared much for Dementors, and after seeing the effect that they have on most people, I can't say that I blame him." He turned to leave, and smiled at the group, none of whom had eaten their chocolate. "I haven't poisoned that chocolate, you know. Eat; it'll make you feel better." Harry obeyed and put the chocolate in his mouth, and was pleasantly surprised to feel warmth spread over his cold body.

"That was the weirdest sensation I've ever experienced," Neville said softly but vehemently. Ginny nodded.

"Come on," Hermione said softly, rubbing Harry's back a bit, "let's get changed into our robes. We'll be arriving soon." The others nodded, and began reaching up to get their trunks down. Neville and Ginny said goodbye and proceeded to return to their compartments to change.

Moments later, the train pulled up at the station at Hogsmeade, and everyone began disembarking. People were chattering as usual as they disembarked, but everyone, especially the first and second years, remained close together, their talk hardly louder than a whisper, showing their nerves from the Dementor on the train.

Stepping off the platform, Ron, Harry and Hermione waved cheerily at Hagrid as he shepherded the first years towards the boats that would take them to the castle, and then climbed into one of the many horseless carriages that took the returning students to the castle and began to move towards Hogwarts castle for what would turn out to be a very interesting school year.


	5. Chapter 5

Five

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the castle, making their way towards the Great Hall, when they were quickly stopped by Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, I would like to see you both, please." She said. Her lips were not abnormally thin, so Harry figured they weren't in trouble, but he still shared an uneasy glance with Hermione as they followed her to her office.

"Now," McGonagall said, stepping in front of her office, "I wanted to—there is no need to look at me like that, Mr. Potter, I assure you that you are _not _in any sort of trouble—anyway, I wanted to mention that what I have to tell both of you is rather…personal, and may cause you both…er…discomfort, and so I would like to speak to you individually. Mr. Potter, I would like to see you first. Miss Granger, please wait here, I will be as efficient as possible…here, this should make you comfortable." Professor McGonagall had conjured up a plush armchair for Hermione as she shuttled Harry into her office.

"Please, sit," Professor McGonagall requested, taking a seat at her desk. Harry took the chair opposite her. "Well, first off, Professor Lupin owled me to tell me you were taken ill on the train, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling now?"

"I'm fine, Professor."

"Are you sure? Do you need any chocolate?"

"Professor Lupin already gave me some," Harry responded. The corners of McGonagall's mouth betrayed the faintest hint of a smile.

"Then I assume you would like me to pass on to Madam Pomfrey that she need not fuss over you?" Harry chuckled.

"You assume correctly, Professor, thank you." McGonagall nodded, and leaned back in her chair. "What else did you want to tell me, Professor?" Harry asked, thinking that if what she had just said was all she wanted to tell him, she could have—and probably would have—done so in front of Hermione. True, he was still embarrassed about fainting from the Dementor, but other than that, what McGonagall said wasn't exactly personal—or at the very least, nothing Hermione didn't already know. McGonagall cleared her throat, looking anxious.

"Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore asked me to tell you that an extraordinary event has…occurred within you…you see, you are soul bonded to…someone…"

"Hermione?"

"Yes…er, how did you know?" Harry swallowed. McGonagall did not exactly invite his confidences, but he opted for honesty.

"I met with my account manager at Gringotts when I was withdrawing gold for the term, and they told me about it, and I…er…guessed that Hermione was my…er…" McGonagall's eyebrows shot upward, but she recovered quickly.

"Yes, a bonding does alter your status with Gringotts, and you made a very…intelligent guess, Mr. Potter. Miss Granger, or should I say, Ms. Granger is indeed your bond-mate. Such an event is not supposed to happen so young, nor under the circumstances in which was borne your bond, yet it is there. Professor Dumbledore would like to meet with the two of you at the soonest possible convenience to discuss it with you." Harry nodded. "That will be all, you may head down to the feast, but do please send in Miss Granger."

"Er…Professor, can I wait for her?"

"Very well, Mr. Potter, but please wait outside."

After a good ten minutes of sitting in the armchair, Hermione came out, looking happy, but when her eyes met with Harry's, she blushed a violent crimson. Harry could have sworn he heard McGonagall chuckle as she gently shut her door behind Hermione, giving them a lead start to the feast.

"How was your conference?" Harry asked, after the two had trod towards the great hall in silence.

"Good…I mean, fine, we talked about my sch—schedule," Hermione stammered. Harry grinned, but kept quiet.

"Oh," Hermione said in a soft, disappointed voice, "we've missed the sorting." Nevertheless, she and Harry walked down to the Gryffindor table where Ron had saved them seats, and tucked into the meal.

After the meal, Professor Dumbledore stood up to make his customary speech, welcoming two new staff members to the school—Professor Remus Lupin, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures. The applause for Professor Lupin was unenthusiastic at best, though Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville clapped loudly, having witnessed first hand his experience with the Dark Arts. There was almost no applause for Hagrid's appointment, but Harry tentatively stood up to give Hagrid a standing ovation, knowing how much being a teacher would mean to Hagrid.

"We should have known," Ron said grinning, after Harry sat back down, "who else would have sent us a biting book?" After the feast, he, Harry and Hermione walked up to the staff table to congratulate Hagrid on his promotion.

"All down ter you three," Hagrid said, "Professor Dumbledore came righ' down ter me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough. A teacher, me! Hones'ly." Overcome with emotion, Hagrid buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away, and they returned to the Gryffindor common room and made their way to bed.

The following morning, classes began with Divination, and from the moment he set foot in the Divination classroom, he knew it had been a mistake, signing up for the class. The hot, perfume-filled room made him feel drowsy and stupid, and he reckoned that if he had to endure so much perfume for a whole class period, he might leave with a headache. Sighing, he sat down beside Ron and Hermione and tried to focus on the Professor's totally boring lecture on tea leaves, and he only drunk the scalding tea down because he was asked, and ruefully swapped his cup with Ron while Hermione looked on, as bored as he was.

"Right, what can you see in my cup?" Ron asked curiously.

"Tea leaves," Harry replied. Ron and Hermione snorted, causing Professor Trelawney to come over and quiz Harry about what he had seen, but for his lack of attentiveness, she herself snorted—with frustration—and ordered Ron to look in Harry's cup. At least Ron gave a better effort than Harry had, though he too ought to have been told by Professor Trelawney that he had no 'perceptions of the future', as she had scathingly told both Harry and Hermione. Professor Trelawney, however, impressed by Ron's effort, decided to help Ron, pointing out where he was needing help, when suddenly and dramatically, she dropped Harry's cup screaming, and told Harry in a very shaky voice that he had the Grim, an omen that was considered the worst of all, for it was a sign of death. After leaving, Ron become concerned with the Grim in Harry's cup, even though Hermione reminded him a tad rudely that he had thought the grim to be a sheep—along with at least 25 variations—but Harry felt unconcerned, and agreed wholly with Hermione that Divination was a 'wooly' subject.

Harry might have been unconcerned about the Grim, but a very small part of him shared Ron's unease, for he had seen a great big black dog—the Divination textbook's description of the Grim—when he had been strolling around the Grangers' pool late one night, enjoying the summer evening fresh air, and had jumped back in surprise, landing in the pool and getting his left foot trapped in the pool covering, which Alan Granger liked to put over three quarters of the pool at night so that odd stuff was kept out of the water. As luck would have it, Harry fell in the shallow end, and had reasoned that were he in the deep end, due to his trapped foot, he might very well have drowned.

And Grim or not, Harry's classes had gone steadily downhill from Divination. History of Magic remained his most boring class—though Divination was giving History a run for its money—and potions was intolerable as always, but Defense Against the Dark Arts was the most interesting class—and Professor Lupin did indeed know a ton of Defense, and was by far the most engaging teacher Harry had, yet he seemed to think Harry unable to face a Boggart that he had brought to class, which depressed Harry, who was consoled only by the fact that Hermione had not faced it either.

Quidditch, which had started out as the only bright spot on Harry's horizon, but ended up being one of the worst experiences by the time the first match of the season, Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, came around. It had been a cold day, raining an almighty ocean of water, making play difficult enough, but as luck would have it, just after seeing a big black dog in the stands, Dementors entered the stadium, and Harry fell. He awoke to find himself in the Hospital wing, Hermione standing at his side, holding and brushing his left hand, and her eyes were noticeably red. On his other side, Ron, Fred and George stood, all of them incredibly pale. The rest of the Quidditch team stood at the foot of his bed.

"How are you feeling, mate?" Ron asked his eyes wide.

"That was scary," George agreed, "you must have fallen…what, 50 feet?" Hermione let out a small squeak, and Harry reached out and held her hand.

"We thought, maybe…you had died," Fred said in a somber tone. Hermione looked almost faint, and Angelina Johnson quickly conjured up a chair for her, and she sat, smiling gratefully at Angelina, and buried her face in her hands, crying softly. Harry reached out and squeezed her shoulder. She leaned her head on top of his hand in response, kissing it discreetly.

"I'm okay, Mione," Harry said softly. But when he asked Fred and George and the rest of the team how the match went, he became a little less okay. Cedric Diggory, the new Captain and Seeker for the Hufflepuff team had caught the Snitch just after Harry fell, unaware of what had happened. When he saw, he tried to call for a rematch, but Hufflepuff had won. Ron proceeding to tell him that his broomstick had been blown away in the storm, and had crashed into the whomping willow and was now broken beyond repair did not help Harry's depression.

Nor did the hours Harry spent alone in the Hospital wing help, either, for he was left with nothing but the memories of the woman who started screaming every time a Dementor came near, and after a few days of remembering it all, Harry finally realized what he was hearing, though he would have given everything he owned to remain ignorant. He had been hearing his mother plead with Voldemort for his life and her last moments of her life, refusing to allow Voldemort access to hurt him. When the realization of it all hit, Harry had to fight an overwhelming amount of emotion that surged through him, and eagerly awaited company, and had been thrilled to see Ginny approach him quite bashfully with a get well card she had made herself, by the looks of it.

"Hey, Ginny," Harry called as she approached, "pull up a chair." She did so, blushing furiously.

"Harry, I'm so sorry about…everything…er, Fred and George told me about the last match and…and everything that happened and I just wanted to…you know…I hope you get w—well soon." She stammered, still blushing furiously. Harry smiled at her, thanked her, and then looked at the foot of his bed, frowning.

"Ginny, I…do I make you feel uncomfortable?" he asked suddenly.

"What? I…no, of course not, Harry! You don't make me feel…I mean, well…"

"Remember the butter dish incident?" Harry asked, recalling the summer a year previously where he had stayed at the Burrow, and she had been very uneasy in his presence. He was partly teasing, but both he and Ginny knew that there was more to his question than just the joking about an unpleasant memory.

"Well, you know, I had that ridiculous crush on you…how could you not when you hear…er…_your _story every night as a bedtime story? But…why do you ask?"

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Ginny. If I do, I'll be happy to stay as far out of your life as you like, but…I really like you, Ginny, and I want to be your friend."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Friends," Ginny proclaimed, beaming, and holding out her hand, "girlfriend one day would be cool, but I know that'll never happen, and this may turn out to be better anyway." She grinned at the look on Harry's face.

"What are you on about?" Harry asked. Ginny chuckled.

"Hermione just happens to be my best girl friend," Ginny said, "and felt she could trust me with the secret about your bond, so I know your heart is off limits. And anyway, there's more to Neville than meets the eye." She added cryptically, winking at Harry.

"Why would being just friends be better than being together?" Harry asked, still totally lost. Ginny actually burst out laughing.

"Harry, Mum once told me that her best friend…" Ginny stopped laughing and blushed again, but Harry could tell that this was a different blush, one that was more unsure than embarrassed, as though she would rather not say what she was going to, "…was…er…your mother, and she always told me that, in many ways they loved each other more than their husbands, though in a totally different sense. I don't understand everything she told me, but I do understand what she said about cherishing all your loved ones, but especially your best friends, because there is something mysteriously special about a best friend that you can't explain, regardless of whether the best friend is of the same gender or not. I feel that way about Hermione and about you." Harry smiled.

"Friends," he said, and took Ginny's hand in his own, shaking it happily.

After they became friends, Harry, Hermione and Ginny became a little trio. Harry by no means forgot Ron, but there was something special about having Hermione and Ginny as his closest friends. As Ginny had said, she got along extremely well with Hermione, and both girls were more than willing to support Harry. His first realization of how much came a few weeks earlier, when the first Hogsmeade weekend came around. All third years were allowed, if they had a signed permission form, which had come over the end of summer with their Hogwarts letters, to visit the village outside of Hogwarts, Hogsmeade. Hermione and Ron had gotten their forms signed, but Harry had not been so fortunate. He had not had an opportunity to discuss the matter with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, before Hermione and her father had come to pick him up, but he knew better than to assume that they would actually consent, and he knew that even if he got either of Hermione's parents to sign, it wouldn't work, and be a touch inappropriate, since Harry was not Hermione's brother. Ron had been jumping up and down with excitement about the weekend, throwing plans at Hermione at an overwhelming rate. On the day itself, Ron eagerly thrust his permission form into Filch's hand.

"Come on, Hermione!" He urged. Hermione looked pensive for a moment, then turned in her own permission form, but stepped back.

"That's for future visits," she informed Filch, and then turned back to Ron, "I'm sorry, Ron, but I thought I'd stay here and keep Harry and Ginny company. I'll see you when you get back." Ron frowned at her, shrugged and then followed Fred and George out the gates. While enjoying lunch with his friends, Harry urged Hermione to go on future Hogsmeade visits, and Ginny added that Harry was always welcome with her—she was only a second year and could not visit the village herself—if Hermione needed a break, to which Harry added that as a friend, one of his biggest priorities was to see that Hermione—and Ginny—were happy.

When Christmas rolled around, Harry was really excited. With the companionship of Ron and the girls, he could not wait to celebrate with them. Prior to coming to Hogwarts, Harry really didn't care for Christmas any more than he cared for the rest of the years he spent with the Dursleys, and didn't believe in Father Christmas, but he believed in it all now, and like any sane child on Christmas, awoke at five in the morning, itching to open his presents. This year, he swore, however, that he would not open his gifts up in the dorm, so that he could open them with Hermione and Ginny as well as Ron, and he just hoped they were thinking along the same lines.

They were, and by 6:45, most of the gifts of all of them had been opened. Harry had gotten a package from Mrs. Weasley that included a Weasley sweater and several mince pies. Ginny had gotten her own sweater and several pies of her own, some of which she was starting to eat, as everyone got down to their last gifts.

"Hey Harry, open that one!" Ron said, pointing to the present at the bottom of Harry's pile. He dutifully tore the wrapping apart and nearly jumped back from shock. Ron and Ginny's eyes popped out of their sockets, and their jaws hit the floor.

"Talk about saving the best for last!" Ginny said in an awestruck voice.

"Blimey!" Was all Ron could say.

"It's a Firebolt!" Harry said in the same tone as Ginny. Harry looked over at Hermione, grinning to rival the Cheshire cat. Hermione did not look as excited as Harry, Ron or Ginny, however, and instead timidly asked Harry,

"Was there any card?" Harry looked through the wrapping and did not turn one up. He shook his head.

"That's a good broom, isn't it…?" she asked tentatively.

"Good?!" Ron replied for Harry, "it's an _international _standard broom, Hermione."

"…so it must have cost a lot…"

"More than all the Slytherin's brooms put together!" Ron declared proudly, "and speaking of Slytherins, wait till Malfoy sees you on this, Harry! He'll be sick! His 'great' Nimbus 2001 couldn't hold a candle to your broom!" He collapsed in a fit of laughter.

"Be careful," Hermione warned cryptically, "I think there may be something out of order with that broom." Ron scoffed, and Harry disappeared, returning with the broomstick servicing kit that Hermione had gotten him for his birthday. Ginny laughed when she saw Harry take out tool after tool and try to find something to work on.

"There's nothing you can do," she chuckled as he pulled out the can of polish, "but my hands are all greasy from Mum's pies. I could hold the broom for a while if you like."

"No, thanks, I think I'll save that for later…say more than five years later," Harry replied, grinning. Hermione did not grin, but suggested they all go down to breakfast.

When they got to the Great Hall, they were surprised to see that the usual Head and House tables had not been set up, and rather, Dumbledore and various staff and students who had stayed over the holidays were sitting around what looked like a large card table. Breakfast had been enjoyable, but Harry was itching to go back, get his Firebolt, and try it out a bit. He was touched by Hermione's concern—for what else could her warnings be about? He didn't think she was particularly jealous—but who could boast that they flew the best broom in the world unless they were a Quidditch superstar? He and Ron announced that they were leaving, but Hermione said that she needed to speak to Professor McGonagall.

Back in the Common Room, Harry got his new broom, admired it with reverence for a few minutes, and then strode to the portrait hole. He was almost to it, when it opened, and McGonagall strode in, trailed by Hermione, who slipped into an armchair by the fire and tried to make herself inconspicuous as McGonagall went over to Harry.

"Miss Granger tells me that you have been sent a broom anonymously," McGonagall said, "may I look at it?" Without waiting for an answer, she took it away from Harry and looked it over. "Hmmm…there was no note? No card? No greeting of any sort?"

"No," said Harry, wondering what the big deal was.

"Mr. Potter, I shall have to take this broom. It may be cursed. I'm no expert on brooms, but I daresay that Madam Hooch and Professor Flitwick will want to strip it down. I promise that you shall have the broom back if it is determined that it is not cursed."

"There's nothing wrong with it!" Ron protested.

"You can't know that until you've flown it, and that is out of the question for the moment," McGonagall said, addressing Harry, "I will keep you updated. Happy Christmas." She left the room, leaving a very shocked Harry in her wake. Ron, on the other hand, rounded on Hermione, who was steadily darkening behind her upside-down book.

"What did you go running to McGonagall for?!" He asked none too politely—or softly. Hermione's blush only deepened, but she faced Ron defiantly.

"Because I thought—and McGonagall agrees with me—that the broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

"What?! He's on the run! I doubt he could exactly walk into Quality Quidditch Supplies to buy a broom! You're just jealous!"

"Of what, exactly?" Hermione asked waspishly, "I don't even like flying!" Harry frowned inwardly. He already had determined that Hermione was not jealous of his broomstick, but he still couldn't see what the big deal was. He _did _see that if Ron had any sense, he would not answer Hermione's essentially rhetorical question, but, sadly…

"That someone would care about Harry enough to spend that much on him and not you!!" Harry instantly saw that Ron had touched a nerve. Hermione was no longer blushing, but her face was redder than Harry had ever seen it.

"ENOUGH!" Harry said, intervening before someone got hurt, "Stop it, both of you!" Both Ron and Hermione glared at him, but Harry continued calmly, turning to Ron. "This is my broomstick we're talking about. If anyone is to yell at Hermione about this, it will be me."

"Fine!" Ron snapped, "I'll leave it to you to yell at her."

"Ron, for goodness sake, Hermione has been our friend for three years now, and has never turned either one of us in. I for one think that that gives her the right to explain herself."

"What!?! She's all wrong! What could she possibly explain??!" Harry ignored Ron and turned back to Hermione, who was now pale and frightened looking.

"Before I decide whether or not to yell at you, Hermione, I want to know why you think my broomstick was tampered with." Ron gave a derisive snort and headed to the boys' dormitories. Hermione shifted her weight nervously, but held Harry's gaze.

"Sirius Black is supposed to be after you, Harry, and it would be so simple to curse the broomstick to make you fall off and make it look like an accident, especially if he wasn't there. That was the only reason we were able to help you back in first year when Professor Quirrel was cursing your broom—because Ron and I saw him—and the jinxes he was using can be put on an inanimate object like that. And I don't want you—" at this point she was crying "—to fall off your broom ever again. If you are angry at me, I guess that's how it is, but your life means more to you than our friendship." She hung her head, waiting for him to start yelling at her, and when nothing came, she made her way to the girls' dormitories. Having a quick stride, Harry caught her before she managed to get to the stair.

"Hermione, look at me," Harry said gently, turning her around, "I'm not mad at you at all. I know you would not have turned in the broom for jealously. I should never have doubted you at all." He knelt down so that he was level with Hermione, "it means a lot to me that you would do something to keep me safe. And I want you to know two things, Mione. I would do the same for you, and your friendship is more important to me than any broomstick, even a Firebolt. There's more to life than Quidditch."

"Things like friendship and trust."

"Not to mention l—love"

"That's awfully grown up, Harry."

"I guess sometimes having been born under a madman's oppression, growing up in a loveless family and having a killer on the loose after you helps keep things in perspective." Harry straightened up a bit. "Fancy a walk?"

"Sure," Hermione said, now beaming and drying her eyes, "we can build a snowperson!" Harry chuckled and offered his hand to her, which she took, and led her out the portrait hole.

They spent most of the rest of the afternoon enjoying making the snowperson, whom they agreed would not be of a specified gender, since Hermione was too embarrassed—or so she said—to make it a snowman, and Harry was too embarrassed to make it a snowwoman. After a while, the snowperson was getting quite large, as they had ample amounts of snow to work with, and neither Harry or Hermione seemed satisfied. Sneakily, Harry snuck around to the back of the snowperson, who was now wider than either of them, on the pretense of working on the back part, and quickly made himself a small stash of snowballs and then snuck a few feet away from the snowperson and Hermione.

"Harry?" she asked slightly nervously when she realized he wasn't there.

"LOOK OUT!" Harry called back gleefully and tossed one of his snowballs at her. She shrieked and ducked just in time.

"Why you!...I'm going to get you, Potter!" Hermione bellowed good-naturedly, furiously making her own snowballs. Deciding to play fair, Harry patently waited until she had made a good amount before firing another snowball at her, and as a result, got a mouthful of snow, thanks to a well-aimed snowball from Hermione. Harry fired back and a snowball grazed her shoulder.

"Ow, Harry!" Hermione called out in mock pain, "I think I'm going to die because of your snowball!" At first, Harry looked sincerely ashamed, thinking he had really hurt her, but when he saw her grin and start to laugh, he realized she was having him on, and laughed with her, tossing another snowball at her. They continued to chase each other around the grounds, throwing snowballs left and right, both making an admirable effort to not throw the snowballs towards any regions which might _really _cause pain. After a few minutes, Hermione ducked behind the snowperson to avoid Harry's last snowball.

"You're out of snowballs, Harry!" Hermione taunted, "what are you going to do now?"

"This," Harry responded, jumping headfirst into the snowperson, his body weight dissolving it, and causing him to land on top of her. He grinned down at her and embraced her tightly, and then released her, rolling over and sitting up, and helping her to a sitting position. He blushed at her grateful smile and looked at his feet for a few minutes before clearing his throat.

"Hermione…" he said hesitantly, "I know we haven't talked about…this bond-thingy between us, and I don't know if I'm supposed to say anything or do anything, cause we haven't had the opportunity to talk to Dumbledore yet, but I wanted to say that…every time I'm near you, or hug you it feels…well…right, I guess, and I don't know if I need to do this, but I want to ask, I think because I'm supposed to…Hermione, do you want to go out with me?"

"Yes! Harry, I want to go out with you more than anything, but…why do you say 'because you are supposed to'? You do want to go out with me right?"

"Yes of course, but…if we go out, we'd be boyfriend and girlfriend, and…"

"You don't want me as your girlfriend, do you?" Hermione asked, her eyes filling with tears.

"Shut up," Harry said good naturedly, "I want you to be my girlfriend more than anything. What I was trying to say is that I feel like…like we're more than boyfriend and girlfriend…what I feel for you is more…intense and…special. All I know for certain is that you mean more to me than…anything."

"Oh, Harry, I feel the same way," Hermione said softly.

"C—can I kiss you?"

"You don't even have to ask." They moved their heads slowly, almost shyly towards each other, only succeeding in bumping into the others' noses. Finally, Hermione suggested Harry hold still. He did, and she approached him, lost her confidence, and held still for Harry, who gently brought his lips together with hers.

An explosion of feelings rent the two young bodies, causing repeated shivers to course down their spines. It felt at once embarrassing, warm, good, right and amazingly powerful and sensual. Harry wasted no time in running his tongue across her lips, silently asking permission to deepen the kiss. Hermione opened her mouth a bit, and their tongues thrashed almost desperately against each other, racing each other to find the others' tonsils first. After a few minutes, they surfaced for air.

"Wow!" Was all Harry could say. Hermione had lost her speech for the moment. They both sported swollen lips but didn't care. Harry finally cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I think we need to practice a little," he said. Hermione giggled and leaned in for her practice sessions.

They were still at it when Ron came out. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking in shock at the two.

"What the…?!!?" Ron cried out. Harry and Hermione broke apart, both blushing furiously.

"What the _what_?" Harry asked, fighting a giggle at how ridiculous he sounded.

"How…how could you…you know, kiss…_her_." Harry frowned deeply. As long as he had known Ron, he never had acted like this.

"Her name is Hermione, Ron," Harry said annoyed, "and why shouldn't I kiss her?"

"It's…I mean, who wants to kiss Hermione, that's just…hang on, I know why you're kissing her," he said, looking alarmed, "you figure that since no one wants her, you can lull her into a one-night stand, you're…"

"Ron, I would suggest you stop talking. Now." Harry said firmly.

"Why should I?" Ron said angrily, "that's sick that you would do that! I can't believe you would take advantage of her…I mean there are girls out there more deserving…"

"MORE DESERVING?!" Harry roared, causing both Ron and Hermione to step back a bit.

"Yeah!" Ron roared back, "It's like I said, no one wants her!"

"No one wants me? I do not deserve anyone's affection?" Hermione said icily, pulling out her wand, "I don't exactly see a queue of girls at your feet, and I know I never will!!"

"Why you…"

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Hermione yelled, causing Ron to fall over, rigid as a board. Harry looked down at Ron's immobile form and shook his head.

"Hermione, calm down," he said soothingly, pulling her into his embrace. He held her there for about a minute before he looked down at Ron again. "You better release him before a teacher finds him." Hermione nodded and pointed her wand at Ron and performed the counter curse. Hastily, Ron got back up and stared at them, redder than a beet. Harry put his arm around Hermione.

"Hermione and I are going out. You'll have to get used to it if you want to hang out with us." Harry said firmly. Ron said nothing and stormed off.

"I'm sorry I overreacted," Hermione said in a small voice after he had disappeared, "I just know a part of him was right. I mean, I'm not pretty. I'm plain, and my hair is awful, I…" she tried to hold in her tears, but to no avail.

"Stop talking about my girlfriend that way," Harry said comfortingly, "you aren't plain, you're pretty, and you are not undeserving of anyone's love, Mione. If Ron can't see that, then that's his loss." He brushed her tears away and embraced her again, and kissed the top of her head. "Hermione?" he said after a few minutes of silence.

"Hm?"

"I…happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you all for reading up to this point, and to my regulars, I apologize for taking so long.

I must also credit an outside source for making this chapter possible: This chapter contains many similarities—sometimes exact wordings of dialogue—from a story entitled "More Important than any Broomstick" by the extraordinary author Witowsmp. If you liked my story, I urge you to read this other fantastic tale, which I cite as my sole inspiration for writing a Harry/Hermione fic in the first place. Thank You. I publicly apologize for any copying from Witowsmp. It was all unintentional, and I will have this chapter under revision until I can get this to be my own. I cannot guarantee that all copied material will be edited, but I will try my hardest.


	6. Chapter 6

Six

After entering the castle, Harry and Hermione agreed that they really needed to talk to Dumbledore. Especially after their encounter with Ron, they knew that there was far too much about being bonded to each other that they didn't know, but needed to know, so they climbed up the stairs to McGonagall's classroom. From the moment after they had knocked, and she saw the two of them together, shyly holding hands, she immediately guessed what they wanted.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger. May I assume that you two wish to speak to Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied.

"Follow me," Professor McGonagall said, and led them over to the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Cockroach Cluster," McGonagall said firmly to the gargoyle, which moved aside, revealing the spiral staircase that led to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall gestured toward the staircase, inviting Harry and Hermione to step onto it. Smiling in thanks, the two did so, never dropping the other's hand. After a few minutes, they arrived in front of the door and knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore called. They opened the door. "Ah, Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, do please come in, this is a pleasant surprise. Have a seat." They did so, still holding hands, but both blushed darkly when Dumbledore smiled at them, and dropped their hands.

"You should not fight your…er…urges," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling merrily, but almost, it seemed, with joyous mischief as well, "the desire to remain close to each other is part of your bond, which as I understand it, is the reason you wish to speak to me now. I trust it has something to do, too, with the row you two have just had with Mr. Weasley?"

"Oh god," Hermione exclaimed, appalled, "could you hear us, sir?"

"Well, no," Dumbledore said chuckling, "however, I was returning from meeting with Professor Snape in the dungeons when the aforementioned Mr. Weasley came in from the grounds, and he looked in a right state, so it was not hard to deduce that something had happened." Both Harry and Hermione nodded.

"Sir…this bond Hermione and I have…I don't understand, how can it have happened?" Harry asked.

"Ah," Dumbledore responded, looking serious, "such a bond is not even supposed to have occurred between two people as young as yourselves, and some of the circumstances surrounding your bond also seem unusual."

"Like what, sir?"

"Very few people, even those who love each other deeply, could successfully form a soul bond. This is the main reason why Muggles cannot share a soul bond, the other, of course, is that a bond does need a fair bit of magic to start. In fact, many of our more religious Magical Historians have even postulated a theory that bonds begin from another otherworldly power much greater than ourselves, combined with the power of, shall we say, _ordinary _love. I do not mean to sound condescending, Mr. Potter, but prior to now, you have not displayed anything that would have suggested that your love for Ms. Granger was anything other than platonic, and therein is one of the reasons your bond is so unusual. It happened so quickly with no sort of emotional precedence. Also, history shows us that only one in a thousand bonds recorded has occurred between a pureblood or half-blood wizard or witch and a Muggleborn witch or wizard."

"Sir, I still don't understand how we are bonded," Harry said, hoping he didn't sound frustrated.

"Did you say anything to Ms. Granger over the summer that was anything like a pledge of loyalty or of emotional support?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.

"Well," Harry said, "er…after I had a…nightmare, Hermione told me about her uncle Pat, who reminded me of Uncle Vernon, and I could tell he had hurt her the way Uncle Vernon had hurt me, and I…I said…that I would be there for her…always." Harry blushed a deep crimson while Dumbledore smiled. Hermione took his hand and squeezed it.

"Harry," she said quietly, "I can't tell you how much it meant to me to hear you say that. You were the only one besides Mum and Dad who could appreciate just how much Uncle Pat _did _hurt me."

"And what you said sounds very much like both a pledge of emotional support _and_ loyalty to me," Dumbledore added cheerfully, but turned serious again. "Still, ordinarily, your pledge alone would not have been enough to start a bond. I must therefore assume that there is a connection between the two of you that runs deeper than anyone, perhaps even yourselves, is aware." It was Hermione's turn to blush.

"In first year, when I had ran off, after Ron teased me, and I didn't know about the Mountain Troll that Professor Quirrel had let in…I'm guessing, of course, but by the way Harry appeared to be in charge of my rescue, I…er…assumed that _he _had been the one to consider me someone worthy of going after, and…convinced Ron. I've l—liked him ever since. No one else besides my parents would have willingly come after me if I was in trouble." She lowered her head to avoid the smiling gazes of both Harry and Dumbledore. Harry squeezed her hand much in the same way she had squeezed his earlier.

"Hermione, I want you to know that from the start I always liked you, and would have been ready to come after you if you were in trouble in an instant. I'm so sorry that I didn't befriend you earlier, too. When we first met, I could tell you didn't have an easy time making friends, like me. If anyone tried to be my friend before coming to Hogwarts, Dudley and his gang beat them up, and after that, no one wanted to be my friend. I should have stood up for you when Ron teased you, but…I guess I didn't want to risk loosing my first true friend, and so I remained silent. Mione, I'm so sorry." Hermione looked at him, her eyes welling up, and shyly moved herself closer so that she could throw her arms around him.

"You know what," Dumbledore said, "I think I'm convinced. You two clearly did have feelings for each other that are very deep. You know, unless you have any more questions, I…"

"I have one more question, sir," Hermione spoke up, embarrassed, "you, Professor McGonagall and all the other teachers have been calling me Ms. Granger, but you have always called me Miss Granger before I learned of having a bond with Harry. Er…can I ask why?"

"Ah, Ms. Granger, you have touched upon a bond at its most mysterious, least understandable, and I would have loved to have saved this information until a later time, when you might be more…prepared to handle it, however…I have no good reason to deny you your answer, Ms. Granger. You see, due to your bond, you two are…er…married."

"We're _married_?!" Both children responded, aghast.

"Yes," Dumbledore said.

"So _that's _why my status at Gringotts has changed," Harry said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied, "marriage is seen by Gringotts as proof of maturity. I assume, then, that you have seen what your vault holds?"

"Yes sir," Harry responded.

"You should be aware that the vault is now the property of both yourself and Ms. Granger." Harry nodded.

"_Married_," Hermione said in a small voice, "and I'm only thirteen. My word, how am I going to tell Mum and Dad? They'll be furious. Oh god, they'll disown me, I'm so sure!" She started to cry. Gently, Harry coaxed her onto his lap and held her tight, trying to ignore Dumbledore's knowing look.

"Ms. Granger, you do not have to tell them yourself," Dumbledore said kindly, "I will be happy and willing to do so myself. Whether or not you and Mr. Potter are present when I do, I leave up to you." Dumbledore's reassurances, however, did not seem to comfort Hermione much.

"What will they say?" Hermione wept.

"What they'll say," Harry whispered in her ear, "is that they love you. They may very well be shocked, and perhaps at first a bit dismayed. It may be that they may not approve of me, or something, but they will understand, Mione. It might take them a while, but they will. And they will still love you, and will not disown you." Hermione held onto him even tighter.

"I think you two may have had enough for one day. I recommend you return to Gryffindor Tower and have some hot chocolate. I shall have a house elf send some over," Dumbledore said seriously. Harry thanked him with a nod and helped Hermione up. With one more wave in acknowledgment, he left the office.

True to his word, Dumbledore had left two mugs of hot chocolate waiting for Harry and Hermione, which danced in the fireplace, keeping warm, looking as though the mugs were taunting the flames of the fire to try and get them. Both had taken their mugs, and walked over to the chairs beside the fireplace. Neither spoke for a few minutes, but then Hermione asked Harry if it would be okay if she went to talk to Ginny. Harry nodded, but remained seated, as he had no desire to return to the boys' dorms, where he had been informed by Neville that Ron was sulking around.

"Ginny?" Hermione called, knocking on the door to the second years' girls' room.

"Hello, Hermione, I was just playing with Crookshanks, and I think you'll be interested to know…what's wrong? Come in," Ginny responded, opening the door. "My word, did you just go to a ghosts' party?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Here, sit down," Ginny said, coaxing Hermione onto her bed. "Now, tell me, what's wrong?" Hermione proceeded to recount what she and Harry had learned in Dumbledore's office, occasionally pausing to sip at her hot chocolate. As she got closer to the part of the tale where Dumbledore informed them of being married, her pauses to drink became more numerous. When she finished, she put her mug down, which had been a good idea, for no sooner had she said that she was married, then Ginny gave a delighted squeal and tackled her friend.

"Congratulations!" Ginny nearly yelled, "oh Hermione, I'm so happy for you two! Wish I could be bonded to Neville!" Hermione couldn't help but be amused by her friend's excitement, but it didn't last.

"But I'm way too young," Hermione protested. Ginny rolled over, and sat up, helping Hermione to a sitting position.

"I'm no expert on bonds," replied Ginny, looking thoughtful, "but Dad knows a few things—in fact I think he knew about your bond, cause he came home one night all excited about an "unaccomplishable feat" being accomplished, and I know I overheard him mention the word 'bond' when he was talking to Mum, but he refused to mention who, when Fred, George and I questioned him, so I bet anything it was your bond with Harry, and he knew we'd know who the parties were!—anyway, dad told me that there are four stages to bonding: Meeting the person, and establishing a basis for the future bond, beginning the bond, verbally pledging your love, and then finally, physically pledging your love." Ginny chuckled as Hermione paled at the final step. "According to Dad, once you have completed all those steps, you will be fully bonded, and by the sound of it, you and Harry have already completed stages one and two. I've heard that stage three can be tricky, cause apparently you will be overtaken by a need to remain physically close. I don't mean that you have to be…er…sleeping in each other's beds every night, but apparently, I've heard that the farther apart you are, in terms of distance to each other, you become quite literally, sick with anticipation and longing."

"And what happens after you…er…_complete_ stage four?" Hermione asked, uncertain if she wanted to hear Ginny's answer.

"Then you become like any happily married couple: Happy that you will see each other at the end of the day." Ginny said simply. Hermione smiled, but she was still bothered about one thing.

"What will my parents say?" she asked Ginny, "Harry told me that they would still love me, and eventually accept the fact that I was married at thirteen, and wouldn't disown me…I'm not sure I believe him. I love my parents so much, Ginny. They stayed with me even after they found out I was a witch, still loved me and cared for me, and they've been so supportive, Gin. If they disown me…"

"Of course they have," Ginny responded, "and that's why Harry is right. If they were able to love you through discovering that you were a witch, then they will love you after discovering that you were married at thirteen. Even my mum can't fully understand how having a bond with someone makes you married to them, so it probably will take some time for them to accept it, but they will eventually. Of course, I don't know your parents, but I just can't see any other outcome."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

Meanwhile, down in the common room, Harry was doing his own thinking, digesting everything that Dumbledore had told the two of them. He reckoned that this would be one time when he would have wanted to have a father who could help advise him. He was thankful, however, that he had a girlfriend, for thinking of fathers, and of parents in general, made him want to look at his parents' shoebox, and although he appreciated Griphook's advice, he wanted to look at the contents with her. But for now, he realized Ron had entered the room, appearing to want to talk, as he had sat down near Harry.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, seeing Ron take a seat.

"Harry…I…er...want to say…sorry. You must really be mad at me, eh?"

"What do you think?" Harry snorted, "you really hurt Hermione by making such thoughtless remarks. You rather hurt me too, come to that, insulting my tastes in women. I don't know if I can forgive you for any of it."

"I was just…"

"I don't want to hear excuses, Ron. It was pretty obvious you were shocked, but shocked people usually don't end up alienating their former best friends."

"So you don't want to be…"

"I do want to be your friend Ron. You were the first true friend I ever had, and that's always been special to me, but until you think long and hard about what you did, I can't be your friend."

"Bloody hell, I'm trying to apologize here!" Ron said, irritated.

"An apology won't cut it, Ron. I need to know for certain that you won't ever hurt us again. I probably shouldn't tell you, because I don't know if I can trust you any more, but Hermione and I are soul bonded, so her happiness means more than the world to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to go speak with my girlfriend."

Harry left Ron sitting there and went towards the stairs that led to the girls' dorms, so that he could go see Hermione. He had made it to the third stair when a sound like a klaxon siren started wailing and the stairs morphed into a slide, and though Harry tried to continue his ascent, his arms making windmill circles, he ended up falling and slipping, falling back to the floor. He tried valiantly to ignore the screams of laughter from the occupants of the common room. Fred and George had just entered in time to witness Harry's misfortune, and as a result, were reacting particularly violently.

"That's a real shame," Fred said, taking hold of Harry's left arm under the armpit,

"That you couldn't go see your girlfriend," George said, grabbing hold of Harry's right arm. Harry shook his head and thanked the twins for helping him up. Just then, a young girl, probably a first or second year, went over to the stairs-turned-slide and giggled. When her foot touched the concrete slide, it immediately righted itself.

"Excuse me," Harry called after the girl, "if you see Hermione Granger up there, would you tell her Harry wants to see her?" The girl nodded.

"Sure," she said, and dashed up the now normal staircase. Hermione came down a few moments later, and grinned naughtily at Harry.

"I hear you tried to come upstairs," she teased, "trying to glimpse me in the shower, hm?" The twins redoubled into laughter at Harry's expression and Hermione joined them.

"That's not fair," Harry griped good-naturedly and pouting a bit, "you can come into our dorm, why can't I come into yours?"

"It's an old rule…and old fashioned, but according to 'Hogwarts, a History', the founders considered girls more trustworthy than boys."

"Oh," Harry said with a noncommittal shrug.

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"Er…do you know a…um…secure place where we could…look at something the goblins gave me that they said was for me to view alone…"

"Harry, if the goblins said you should view it on your own, I don't think I should…"

"Mione," Harry said gently, but cutting her off nonetheless, "you're my girlfriend, and I trust you, and…this stuff is pretty…er…emotional to me, and I…er…want your support."

"Of course, Harry. I think I know of a classroom where we would be undisturbed."

"Good. Let me get the shoebox. I'll be back down in five minutes or less." Hermione nodded, and Harry dashed up the staircase, returning with the shoebox. When he got back down, he noticed Ginny was standing beside Hermione.

"Hi Harry," she said cheerfully, "I couldn't help but overhear you, and I was wondering if I could join you two?"

"Ginny, this is serious," Hermione admonished.

"I know," Ginny said, dropping her cheery tone, "but I really want to support you, as well, and I hope you know that I will never ever betray your trust, or so help me Merlin. And about the tone, I didn't want to sound suspicious and put you on your guard."

"Thanks, Ginny, that means a lot, and for the life of me, I don't want you to think I don't trust you, because I do, but…I really feel like for now, this is only something I feel okay sharing with Hermione. I hope you can understand."

"Yes, I can." Nevertheless, Harry noticed how downcast Ginny looked, and realized that she really wanted to help, and her gesture had meant the world to Harry.

"I tell you what," he said, "I'll let you know what Hermione and I discussed at the first possible convenience. It might be too hard to tell you right after we get back, but as soon as I feel comfortable, we'll talk. Deal?"

"Deal," Ginny replied, looking much happier.

"What about me?" Ron asked from a corner. Harry regarded him with a hard gaze.

"Until you can show yourself to act mature and trustworthy, I cannot tell you," Harry replied. "Are you ready Hermione?"

"Anytime, Harry." The two left the common room and proceeded to walk the corridors together, until Hermione stopped at a door that seemed a bit old, but nevertheless, Harry recognized it—it was the same door that he had gone through to find the Mirror of Erised in his first year.

"This should work," Hermione commented. Harry nodded. He trusted that the room probably wasn't used much more now than it was then, and so he was pleased to see that it was still quite dusty. Hermione sneezed. Mentally, Harry added Hermione's sneeze to his mental list of things he liked the most about her.

"Gesundheit!" Harry said, trying hard not to laugh.

"Thanks," Hermione said, pulling up and dusting off a couple of chairs. Now Harry sneezed. "Bless you," Hermione said. Harry returned the thanks and set down the shoebox, looking at it nervously.

"I can't do this," Harry said nervously.

"Yes, you can," Hermione responded encouragingly, moving her chair closer to him. With shaking hands, Harry took the cover off the shoebox. It was filled with what appeared to be little trinkets cast over a parchment envelope which was definitely showing its age. On the front, in faded green ink it read,

_Harry_

His hands shaking even more, he lifted it out and looked at the letter—actually, it was two letters, one from his mother and one from his father. The latter was much shorter and almost looked like a postscript. He read his mother's letter first, Hermione reading over his shoulder.

_My Dear Sweet Harry,_

_I've never cared for Gringotts' policy that parents create these memento boxes and write these letters. I shudder to think what it means. If you are reading this, it means that we are dead—most likely from Voldemort—and you survived. If our deaths meant that you lived, then we have not died in vain._

_First, I want to tell you what your parents were like. Your dad was regarded by many as an arrogant show-off when he first came to Hogwarts, and he never considered his day done if he and his two best friends Sirius Black and Remus Lupin had not pranked at least ten people before sundown. Much to my initial chagrin, your father and his friends were never very timely with getting their homework done. I will admit, at first, I was in the school of people who thought him exceedingly arrogant and foolish, but after one of the people James loved to torment, Severus Snape, had the gall to call me 'Mudblood'—Harry, as your Mum, I absolutely FORBID you to call anyone that, as it's a very offensive term for a Muggleborn witch or wizard, like me—I guess I realized, though I'll never fully understand how, that your father actually pranked mainly deserving Slytherins who were bullies and bigots to boot, whom, would you believe, I tried to defend! And I began to be more open to your father's flirting with me, and began to stop trying to defend your father's "victims"—although the term is misleading; they deserved what James gave them—unless I had very good reason to do so. After I dated him, I realized that James and his friends actually had hearts of pure gold, and I've never looked back on marrying him. He is SO handsome!! The both of you, my boys, make me happier than I can possibly say._

_Me, on the other hand, I have always been a quiet studious person. I can't really explain why, but for as long as I can remember, I've loved books and learning, and have been teased about it a lot. Okay, much of it did come from your dad, but from the start, for reasons I never could explain, I was not bothered by it. It was when other people teased me that it hurt. If ever you befriend a bookish person, I hope you will not tease that person _too _badly. I don't know if you were ever told, but I was Prefect and then Head Girl. I would love to see you be either one, but don't worry if you aren't, sweetheart, I'll still be very proud of you. James always said I was adorable and cute, and I've always thought of him as extraordinarily handsome, and we've left some photos in this shoebox, so you can decide for yourself if James is handsome and if I'm cute._

_Finally, Harry, I want to mention James' best friend Sirius Black. I can see why James befriended him. He is a wonderful man, and we made him your Godfather. I suppose if he's raised you, as we had hoped, you probably will know all of this already, but there is a danger. Sirius was also our Secret Keeper, which means that by the Fidelius Charm, he was the only one who knew the location of our house, and even if someone was standing right on our doorstep, they wouldn't know where the house was unless Sirius told them. But at the last minute, your father and I realized that most everyone, including Voldemort's followers, would suspect that Sirius would be our Secret Keeper, and we decided to switch to another friend, Peter Pettigrew to be Secret Keeper. Peter was essentially a good man, but he never had the talent that James, Sirius and Remus had, and he was a bit greedy and loved power and authority—and abusing it. A bad mix, Harry, a bad mix. Anyway, if Peter has betrayed us, as I feared he might, then Sirius would have been in trouble. Sirius is a good man, and I want him to raise you if I cannot, and besides, a good man like him should not pay for another's treachery. If Sirius is in trouble, show this letter to Dumbledore immediately, and he may be able to do something!_

_If there was anything I have wished for, Harry, it would have been to be there for you and raise you as I should have, and would have so loved. I love you so much Harry, and as your mother, my main concern was, and always will be, your happiness. I hope one day you fall in love with a good woman, whether she be a Muggle or Witch, and can carve out a happy life with her. If you become a father someday, maybe you will understand just how much we love you Harry—or at least understand it better than I could ever explain it to you. I have faith that you will grow to be a wonderful person, Harry, and even if I can't be here for you now, know that I love you. Always._

_With all my love,_

_Mum_

James' note was hastily written in a scrawl very much like Harry's own,

_Dear Pronglet,_

_How are you old shoe? Have you gotten on the Quidditch team yet?? I hope so. I loved the game, and when you were a baby, I would take you and your mother for moonlit broom rides, and you never seemed bothered by being up in the air, so I hope that means that you will be comfortable with a broomstick._

_I agree with everything your mother said in her letter, and I'm not as good as she is at writing my feelings down, but I want to add a couple things: With regards to Sirius, definitely do as your mother suggested, and when you see him, tell him—and Remy, too, come to that—how sorry I am. I was the one who suggested, against everyone else's objections, that we switch to Pettigrew as a bluff, and if your mother's hypothesis is correct, then I have not been a good friend to Sirius, or father to you._

_I'll leave you with three bits of fatherly wisdom I wish I could have given you in person: When the happy day comes, treat your girlfriend with respect, and don't rush anything. I'll leave the rest of 'the talk' to Sirius—I was planning on delegating the task to him anyway! (Just joking.) Befriend someone who will make you laugh. I've found that laughter is the best way to stay happy—old shoe! Finally, remember that life is only as fun as you make it, so don't, by any means, slack off your work, but be sure to have plenty of fun, and leave time enough for it._

_I love you, kid, so much,_

_Dad_

When he had finished reading, tears were streaming down Harry's cheeks. Beside him, Hermione was also crying softly. Unaware of anything around him, Harry hugged the letters to his chest.

"I love you both so much, too," he whispered, "I don't need to look at any pictures, Mum, you are beautiful. You too, Dad." Momentarily, Harry had even forgotten that Hermione was around until she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She released him, and looked into his eyes.

"They really loved you, you know," she said quietly.

"I know," Harry responded, feeling a fresh wave of grief hit him. "Sorry," he added, furiously wiping his eyes and trying to collect himself.

"Don't be sorry for loving your mother," Hermione said softly but vehemently. Harry nodded. His head was pounding, in the proverbial sense, with all the stuff he had absorbed, and he suddenly felt inexplicably tired, bringing with it a sense of almost peacefulness which seemed virtually impossible, after going through such turmoil. Nevertheless, he definitely was starting to calm down.

"I love you," he whispered again. Beside him, Hermione was calming down too.

"Harry?" she asked after a measured pause.

"Hm?"

"Do you think your parents were…right about Sirius Black?"

"Yeah, why?"

"If they were, then I was wrong about your broom! Go to McGonagall and show her that letter and I'm sure she'll return the broom to you."

"No." Harry said. "It meant a lot to me that you did that, just like I said. Besides, surely you would be the first to arrive at the conclusion that if Sirius sent the broom, cursed, cause he was after me, then it's just as likely that this Pettigrew, who looks like he is the one who is after me, sent it. You did the right thing by confiscating that broom, Hermione, and I don't want it back until we can be sure it isn't cursed…I never thanked you properly for what you did. Thank you, Mione."

"You're welcome," Hermione said.

"Shall we go back? I think I've had enough for one day," Harry said.

"Yeah, okay," Hermione said, taking his hand. The two walked in comfortable and companionable silence back to the common room, where Crookshanks and Ginny were waiting. Seeing the two together made Hermione curious about the thing Ginny had almost told her when she went to see her earlier.

"Hey, Gin, what were you going to tell me about Crookshanks just before you noticed how…uncomfortable I was?" she asked.

"Oh," Ginny replied, "you see, after playing with him, I realized that he was a Kneazle."

"Wow! Are you sure?"

"Well, his intellectual powers matched the descriptions in some of Mum's various books on Magical creatures. I suppose Hagrid would know better than me, but I'm pretty sure he is one."

"That's wicked!" Hermione said in almost the same tone of voice Harry had used when he first viewed his Firebolt.

"I hate to interrupt," Harry said, "but would anyone mind actually telling me what a Kneazle actually is?"

"It's a Magical creature that looks exactly like a cat, and can even breed with regular nonmagic cats, but has intelligence levels closer to that of a human being. If they exhibit such traits as seeming to understand human speech, or suggest an innate ability to find things—"

"I was hiding Butterbeer corks for him to find," Ginny cut in, "29 in all, and Crookshanks found every one."

"—then, chances are, that cat is, in fact, a Kneazle," Hermione finished, sending Ginny a glance that was both reproving and amused.

"Hey Harry," Ginny said, "please don't think I'm being nosy, or anything, but…well…do you think you're ready to tell me…you know, about the box?"

"Yeah, Gin, I think I am, but I'm also just plain old exhausted, and…" he looked at his watch "…my word, it's even later than I thought! We missed dinner!"

"So I noticed," Ginny said, chuckling, "which is why I brought you back a couple of plates. So I take it you want to go to bed?"

"After I eat my meal, yeah. 'Fanks, Ghinny," Harry said, already attacking his food. Ginny laughed, muttering something about turning into Ron, while Hermione ate a little bit more slowly. Ginny watched them for a few minutes, and then got up.

"Night, you all," she yawned. "Okay, Harry, maybe you were right. I'll see you two in the morning."

"Night, Ginny," Harry and Hermione said at the same time. Ginny smiled knowingly at them and went up the girls' dorm staircase. Harry and Hermione finished their dinners in silence, until finally Hermione put down her empty plate.

"Good night, Harry."

"Erm…Hermione?" She stopped and turned from the staircase.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Er…I…I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Harry."

And with one more kiss, the extraordinarily young lovers made their way to bed.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am **_so _**sorry it took me this long to finish this chapter!! A combination of writer's block and busy holidays (Christmas & New Year) kept me from my usual writing habits, plus I've transferred from the college I was attending to a new one, so I've been settling in here on top of everything else. Forgive me, and hopefully future chapters will not take me so long.

A further note to all you Ron-bashers out there: Sorry, but Ron's ultimate redemption is next!!


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

_An apology won't cut it, Ron…I don't know if I can trust you anymore, but Hermione and I are soul bonded, so her happiness means more than the world to me…_Harry's words rang loudly in Ron's head the next day as he watched Harry retell his experiences to his sister, none of the three paying him any mind. He stood there, a ghost, a shadow, a memory. But if an apology didn't cut it, then what would? Ron had been touched that Harry had said that he still valued, and wanted their friendship, but lately he sure didn't act like he had spoken truthfully. He still avoided Ron's company, and though he would tell Neville, Seamus and Dean goodnight every night, he acted as though Ron was not even there.

So the two were soul bonded eh? And did he have any say? Of course not, they would tell him they didn't _ask _for it to happen, but we are Ron, so bugger off. And did you ever stop to think about me? I suppose you figured I'd lie down and accept all that at face value even though I've always had a soft spot for the girl you get to kiss goodnight…

Ron sighed. He didn't like that he was already knee-deep in self pity, but the way he saw it, they _hadn't _spared his thoughts a second glance, and while he knew it was arrogant and somewhat greedy, he felt his self pity was, at least in part, deserved. Sighing, he made his way down to breakfast, just one of quite a few now where he had either eaten alone, surrounded by first and second years he didn't know about or interact with, or with the twins, every crossable part of his body crossed in the pointless hope that they would not tease him too badly. He sighed as he observed Harry, Hermione and Ginny find seats near Neville, who was a bit up from where Ron was sitting.

"Hey, bro, what's the matter?" Fred asked casually,

"Lamenting the fact that everyone seems to have a close companion except you?" George asked innocently, indicating that Ginny was engaged in a lively conversation with Neville.

"Hate to break it to you, Ronniekins," Fred went on, "but you weren't exactly friendly or supportive of the two you claim to be your best friends. I doubt they exactly asked for this to happen, you know, but the way you act, like it's all a big conspiracy, well…I don't blame them for avoiding you."

"When did you become so wise?" Ron snarled. Fred shrugged.

"Look," George said, "until you get your head out of your arse, I don't think those two will take you back, and you _do _want to be close to them, don't you?"

"Of course, but…"

"No buts! And remember, Hermione isn't the only fish in the sea…uh-oh, gotta go. Percy's coming; don't want him to catch us actually doing good deeds. See you later, eh, Ronniekins?" And with that, the twins promptly left. Ron sighed. He didn't much fancy a chat with Percy either. He grabbed one more pastry from the breakfast table, his goblet of orange juice, and left the Great Hall; his head bowed in thought, and ran full on into someone, spilling his goblet all over the helpless girl's front. The hall rang with laughter.

"Blimey, I'm so sorry!" Ron blurted out.

"It…it's okay," the girl stammered, pulling out her wand and cleaning herself off magically.

"We should have known, shouldn't we boys," came a very familiar, unpleasant drawl, "only the Weasel would have been stupid enough to go run headfirst into a girl. What's the matter, Weasel? Suddenly gone blind and demented at once?"

"That's not funny, Malfoy," a voice cut commandingly over the crowd.

"Oh, look who's talking. Potter and his…"

"I said get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry said, and without a backwards glance at Ron, he put his arm over Hermione's shoulder and walked off with her.

"Do you think we could do a number on the Mudblood's legs from here?" Ron overheard Malfoy whisper to his gargoyle-like cronies Crabbe and Goyle. In spite of his falling out with Harry and Hermione, Ron could not stop a snarl from escaping his lips, but was very surprised to notice that he was not the only one who had. Whipping his head around, he noticed that the girl who he had run into was looking at Malfoy with blatant dislike. But Malfoy had not heard either of them, and continued to whisper to Crabbe and Goyle, sounding more and more excited with each whisper.

"…or do you think we could make her loose control of her…"

"You wouldn't dare!!" the girl cried suddenly. Ron couldn't help but notice that the girl looked rather attractive, all riled up as she was. _It makes her hair shine,_ he thought, _it looks brighter, but it suits her. Not like Mum or Ginny_._ Her hair's like mine, but darker…I like it…_

"You're disgusting, Malfoy!" the girl growled at him, and took off. Ron gave Malfoy a similar glare and took off after her, catching up to her as she rounded a bend leading, Ron reckoned, to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Er…listen," he began nervously, "I…I'm sorry about earlier. I'm Ron, by the way, Ron Weasley."

"It's okay," the girl replied, slightly uneasily, "I'm Susan Bones." She held out her hand and Ron took it gently, offering her a small smile which she returned, and they split, heading for their respective classes. Ron spent the rest of the day mainly daydreaming about Susan Bones, instead of paying attention to class. He was slightly amused to see that, as usual, Hermione had her nose buried in the book, or drinking in every word when a teacher lectured, but now, she had competition…from Harry. To himself, Ron admitted that he very much wanted to be friends with Harry and Hermione again, but he wasn't positive if he liked this new Harry much—he had enjoyed sharing his less than enthusiastic attitude to studying with Harry, but now it looked like Hermione was rubbing off on Harry. The thought stayed with him until he went to bed, puzzling over what were, at least to him, unanswerable questions.

As he lay in bed, his thoughts of his two friends—or were they?—slowly melted into actual sleep and then became dreams. Not any unusual dream, at least for Ron Weasley, he dreamt that he was flying for the Chudley Cannons, playing a very, very important match. He was doing a good job as keeper—his position of choice—and the commentator was singing his praises, while Susan Bones, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were all cheering him on, Susan's voice a bit louder than his sister's or his two friends'. Then suddenly, a cold breeze ran across his cheek, and he felt his broom buck a bit, and as he heard a ripping sound, looked down, and just as he was about to see what had caused the noise, woke up.

It took Ron about a good half second to realize that a man with very matted hair and an overgrown beard was standing behind his four-poster, looking through rips in the curtains and brandishing a knife, and having seen a picture on a flyer his father had shown him, Ron recognized the man. _Sirius Black_.

"AAAAAARRRRGGGGHHH NOOOOOOOO!!!!" Ron yelled out. Black turned tail and scampered, the rest of the dorm waking.

"Action stations!! Man your battle posts, enemy battleship off the port bow!" Dean Thomas cried wildly as he sat up.

"Wuzzgoinon?" Neville and Seamus Finnegan mumbled, rubbing their eyes.

"Now, now, what's all the noise?" Percy Weasley asked, coming into the room, "You're all supposed to be asleep!"

"Perce!" Ron breathed, "Sirius Black! I saw him! With a knife!" Both Percy and Harry frowned at Ron.

"Surely not," Percy said loftily, "you must have been dreaming."

"Yes, I was," Ron said, "but not about that, I…"

"Now, now, just go back to bed, you all. Harry, that includes you." For Harry had jumped out of bed and had started rummaging through his trunk, looking for his shoebox.

"What's going on in here?" Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor House asked tartly, "Percy, why aren't these students in bed? It should be quiet here!"

"All well, Professor," Percy replied, "my brother just had a nightmare is all. I was just trying to get everyone back to bed."

"Professor," Ron called out, "I wasn't dreaming! I saw him! Sirius Black was holding a knife! Look, you can see where he sliced my curtains!"

"Now Ron," Percy said in an irritated, patronizing voice, "just because you thought…"

"I believe him," Harry cut Percy off, looking at Ron. He held his mother's letter in his hand, and turned to Professor McGonagall, "Professor, I would like very much to see Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible."

"Mr. Potter! It is two o'clock in the morning! Professor Dumbledore is asleep, as you should well be yourself!"

"I know, Professor, but this is urgent!" Professor McGonagall sighed.

"Very well, Potter, please accompany me, and I suggest putting on some jeans and a coat over your pajamas as it is rather cool outside."

Harry dressed in a flash, and in a few moments he and Professor McGonagall were heading towards the Gargoyle that led to Dumbledore's office.

"Come," Dumbledore called, when McGonagall knocked.

"Headmaster, you're awake," McGonagall said as she entered the office. Dumbledore smiled.

"It would seem Minerva that you forget that I like to occasionally have strolls in the middle of the night so I can think." He said cheerfully. "Ah, Mr. Potter, it may be that I like to walk around late at night, or should I say, early in the morning, but I am not used to seeing you up so late."

"Professor, I want to talk to you about Sirius Black."

"Sirius Black?"

"Yes. He…he came into Gryffindor Tower earlier and…"

"Ah, Harry, I assume you have been told he is after you?"

"Yes, sir, but I think there might have been other motives behind his attack. For starters, he approached my friend Ron Weasley's bed, not mine, and second, there's this," and Harry gave Dumbledore the letter that his mother had written to him. Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles comfortably on the bridge of his nose and began reading, muttering under his breath. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair for a minute, his eyes closed, and then he jumped up, strode over to the fireplace and threw some floo powder in.

"Remus!" He called. Harry tried not to chuckle as he heard a stream of profanity from Professor Lupin who had been rocked from a deep sleep by Dumbledore's calling.

"You called, Headmaster?" Lupin asked, much more politely, having appeared into Dumbledore's fireplace. Dusting himself off, his eyes saw Harry. "Harry," he said, sounding weary, "so you know." Harry nodded.

"He does not know everything," Dumbledore said, "in fact, I am no longer sure _I _know everything, which is why I called." Dumbledore handed Lupin Harry's mother's letter. Lupin read it, his eyes wide, but not shocked, and when he was done, tears had pooled in them.

"Perhaps you are aware that earlier tonight, Mr. Black attacked a student in Gryffindor tower?" Dumbledore asked. Lupin's reaction was shocking—he sighed deeply.

"I told him not to go," Lupin said, "we needed to wait for a more opportune moment, but Sirius is Sirius." He raised his eyes to meet Dumbledore's. "He's also innocent. Pettigrew is not dead; that's who he was looking for."

"Yes," Dumbledore responded, "I think Harry here, based on his mother's letter, thinks the same thing. The question, then, is, what, or who, is?" Lupin sighed even more deeply than before.

"This is a time I have long dreaded, but I suppose it has come at last. Please, my tale is lengthy, I think everyone should sit.

"You see, Harry, I am a Werewolf. Normally, Defense against the Dark Arts wouldn't cover Werewolves until sixth year, but you understand there are two ways of becoming a Werewolf: You can be born one, the son or daughter of a Werewolf, or you can be bitten by one. The latter was what happened to me when I was very young. I was bitten by a Werewolf who is often considered the worst one out there, called Fenrir Greyback, who, incidentally, works for the Dark Lord –" (the others gasped, save Dumbledore) " – and my father offended him. Biting me was Greyback's revenge. Well, when I came of age to attend Hogwarts, my parents and I were dead certain I would not get accepted, and were any other person in charge, I probably would not have, but then Dumbledore became Headmaster of Hogwarts, and offered me a place here, so long as precautions would be taken that I was removed from the student body at the full moon—that's when a Werewolf makes his transformation, you see—and a plan was made. You know the Whomping willow and the Shrieking Shack? Both were built for my use.

"Hogwarts, on the other hand, was one of the shining moments in my life. You see—and I think you know this feeling Harry—it was the first place I ever had true friends: Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, and your father, Harry, James Potter. Now James and Sirius were some of the cleverest students in the school at that time, and could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared every full moon, and eventually, they worked it out, and rather than desert me, as I feared they would, they did something I will never forget—they became illegal Animagi."

"What?" Harry said.

"An Animagus is a witch or Wizard who can transform into an animal," Professor McGonagall explained, "and each must be registered at the Ministry of Magic, for each Animagus has distinguishing features. But, Remus that was a very foolish, dangerous thing for you to do!"

"Yes, it was," Lupin sighed, "and to this day, I'm still haunted by our actions, not the least being that I totally betrayed Dumbledore's trust in me, and even now, I feel guilty working here. I'm so sorry, Albus, that I did so. Please, forgive me."

"Why did my dad become an Animagus for you?" Harry asked. Lupin shuddered.

"They could not keep me company as humans. A Werewolf, Harry, does not distinguish best friend from fiercest foe; all they care about, and all I would have cared about, once transformed, was biting every human being within reach. But as animals, I did not present a danger to them. Those were the days," Lupin said, a reminiscent smile tugging at his lips, "we became a little band after that. We called ourselves 'the Marauders' and went on adventure after adventure during the nights, learning everything we could about Hogwarts and its little secrets. We had names for each other, based on our forms. I was called 'Moony', Sirius was 'Padfoot' because he's a dog, 'Prongs' was James, because he was a stag, and Peter", Lupin said contemptuously, "was called 'Wormtail'; he was a rat—and acted like one, too.

"You see, Headmaster, Wormtail, contrary to popular belief, betrayed James and Lily, and he's hiding here at Hogwarts. Sirius is currently living at my place in Ayrshire, and he showed me that picture of the Weasley family in Egypt, and he and I are pretty sure that Ron's rat is actually Peter." Silence followed Lupin's story.

"Then…Sirius really is innocent," Harry said in a far off voice, "but then," (it was stronger now), "how do we get him a free man?" Suddenly, Lupin smiled.

"Leave that to me," he said, and dashed out of Dumbledore's office.

He returned a few moments later with Ron's rat, Scabbers, in between his fingers, squeaking and squealing with all his might.

"You see that patch on the top of his head where the fur is thinner?" Lupin asked Harry, pointing it out, "that was Peter's distinguishing feature, because he always had, from the day we met him, very thin hair. That was what Sirius and I saw in the picture in the Daily Prophet." He turned away from Harry and looked at the rat.

"Not happy to see me, are you Peter?" Lupin said in a deadly voice, "I don't blame you. Azkaban isn't good enough for what you've done. If killing you didn't mean I was condemning an innocent man to life in prison, believe me, I would." He raised his wand on the rat and muttered an incantation.

By the force of the spell it seemed, the rat was flung from Lupin's vice-like grip to land on the floor, where he writhed, twisted and turned, grotesquely resuming a human form, forced, as it were, from his Animagus form. After a few minutes, a short, balding man with watery eyes, large front teeth and a crooked nose looked fearfully at the group.

"Incarcerous!" Lupin bellowed, and ropes shot out of his wand, tightly binding Pettigrew.

"Headmaster," Lupin said, panting from adrenaline, "I think you and I need to round up Sirius and take this worthless bit of vermin to the Ministry. Reviewing his and Sirius' memories will show that from the moment James made Pettigrew the secret-keeper, he was working for Voldemort, and I think I can speak for Sirius when I say that he and I will happily be questioned under Veritaserum." Slowly, Dumbledore nodded.

"Can…can I come, too?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I'm afraid not," Lupin replied. "Sirius isn't after you, Harry, this man," he prodded Pettigrew angrily in the back, "is. I do promise you that as soon as it's all over, we will tell you exactly what happened. You and Sirius do need to meet, after all." He smiled and disappeared into the fireplace, Dumbledore following.

"Minerva, please escort Harry back to Gryffindor tower," he said before stepping into the flames.

------

Ron was awake and in a panic. Harry could hear him even before the portrait of the fat lady had begun to swing open.

"HAVE YOU SEEN SCABBERS??!! HAS ANYONE SEEN MY RAT!??"

"No, Ron, no one has seen Scabbers," Hermione patiently replied. Harry's heart did a backflip as he heard her voice, and fought the urge to run straight into her arms.

"HARRY! HAVE YOU SEEN…" Ron started as Harry approached.

"No, Ron," Harry said loudly enough to be heard, "Ron, sit down, we need to talk. Hermione, you too. You ought to hear this as well," he added, dropping his voice. He proceeded to tell them everything that had transpired in Dumbledore's office. When he was done, Ron had slouched in his chair looking overwhelmed and remorseful. Hermione looked a little bit frightened.

"Guys," Ron said suddenly, "I…I've been thinking a lot today about how I've been acting, and…I'm really, really sorry. The way I reacted to your…you know…bond was selfish and thoughtless, and my actions were completely uncalled for. I guess I was just kinda shocked cause I had…you know…a bit of a soft spot for Hermione, but…there's another girl who I like more—no offense, Hermione—so you don't need to worry about that. I just want to be friends with you two again, and I hope someday you can forgive me." Harry and Hermione looked first at Ron and then at each other, and in a split second of unspoken communication, realized that he was being completely honest.

"I forgive you, Ron. I really did mean it, you know, when I said that you being my first best mate was special. I'm glad we don't have to continue being on the wrong sides of each other." He grinned. Ron grinned back. "And," Harry added, "I'm sorry about what happened to Scabbers and all…being who he actually is."

"Don't worry about it, mate," Ron said, "if I had known that before, I would have chucked him out long ago."

"I forgive you, too, Ron," Hermione said, "you know, it'll be nice, I think, being a quartet."

"Quartet?" Ron asked.

"Well, I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to turn Ginny away."

"She's become a really good friend," Harry agreed. Ron looked a bit miffed for a moment, but then said,

"I can live with that."

"Good," Harry said, "now, let's go to bed. Tomorrow is only hours away, and I get to find out if my godfather is guilty or innocent, and I doubt I'm exempted from any of my classes, so we need our sleep." They all nodded and made their way to the dorm staircases, Ron taking a head start so that Harry and Hermione could kiss each other goodnight before returning to their dorms.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: To my reviewers: Before you say anything, please understand that I _do _know that I have thrown the occurrences of major events in Prisoner of Azkaban (e.g. Sirius slashing Ron's bed, Lupin's Werewolf tale) way out of order from what they are in canon, and also understand that this is for very good reason as you will see later on.

By the way, I do not mean to sound condescending, but I don't really feel up to responding to however many reviewers who feel it right to point out to me something I already know very well—that can get tiresome, you understand.


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

Harry awoke after three hours sleep to find Lupin and Sirius Black looking at him.

"Well, we've got some good news and some bad news," Lupin said as soon as Harry had opened his eyes.

"Was' the good news?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Well," Sirius said, "they found enough evidence to clear me of all charges, which means I'm free, and…well…" suddenly, he became more hesitant, "I'll understand if you don't, but obviously, now that my name's cleared, I…er…you could live elsewhere than with your aunt and uncle…"

"What, leave the Dursleys?"

"Well, I figured you probably wouldn't want to, I mean it was just an idea, and I've really nowhere to live, but…"

"Are you mad?" Harry said, "I couldn't be happier to leave the Dursleys, even if it means living on the streets, but I know it won't come to that, since I'm pretty sure that when my account manager at Gringott's said I had full access to my vault because of my bond, I think he mentioned I have some property deeds."

"Of course!" Sirius said looking excited, "I bet you've inherited the family mansion! Just imagine, you and me at the Marauder's second home," he added dreamily.

"Speaking of which," Lupin said, "I wonder what became of our map? I know James would be thrilled if it found its way into your hands, Harry." Sirius nodded vigorously. Harry smiled, the two of them were pretty close, it was obvious, and Harry liked the camaraderie they shared; it made him feel like he and Sirius would likely get along.

"Oh, and there's more good news Harry," Lupin said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts, "Dumbledore has granted permission for you and Hermione to take the day off, firstly so that Harry and Sirius can get to know each other, and he is going to call upon Mr. and Mrs. Granger so that, now that you have a guardian, your two families can discuss your bond. He's planning a lunch meeting at the Hog's Head pub on the other end of Hogsmeade." Harry nodded.

"Hey, are you ready to get up??" Sirius asked excitedly, "I packed a picnic breakfast. I wanna get to know you, Pronglet!"

"Um…would it be all right if Hermione came along?" Harry asked hesitantly. Serious looked thoughtful, while deftly avoiding the sniggering Lupin. Finally, he answered,

"Well, you two are bonded, if I understand all this right, so I suppose I'll have to get used to you two being close together…yeah, she can come." Harry smiled, and Sirius smiled back.

"We'll let you get dressed," Lupin said and he and Sirius left the dorm. A few minutes later, he came down to see Sirius talking to Hermione, while Ginny and Ron crammed the last of their homework into their bags.

"It's not fair that you get a day off," Ginny grumped, "the workloads are getting worse with each passing day." Harry stuck his tongue out at her. Inspired, Hermione did the same to Ron, who seemed mildly taken aback as he had not said anything, but then snorted and shook his head.

"We do actually have some serious things we'll be doing though," Harry assured his friends as they left to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. At his comment, Hermione paled a bit and looked vaguely frightened. Sirius looked concerned.

"Are you two ready?" he asked, "come on, let's go sit by the lake."

A few minutes later, the three sat beneath an oak near the beach of the lake that those – namely Fred and George Weasley – who weren't afraid of the giant squid used to swim, eating Sirius' breakfast. Sirius listened patiently as Harry recalled living with the Dursleys while he buttered them all crumpets. He had done well refraining from interrupting Harry and let him talk himself blue, but when Harry recalled a visit by Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, long before he had come to Hogwarts and had been dead set on knowing who his parents were, and told Sirius of what Marge had said about his mother and father, Sirius jumped up, his eyes blazing with pure anger.

"She called James _that_?!!" Sirius roared, referring to Marge's description of James as a 'lazy, worthless, drunk suck-up'. Harry nodded sadly.

"You don't want to know what she called my mother," he said in a small voice.

"No," Sirius said, collecting himself, "no…I suppose I don't." Harry fiddled sadly with his toast and jam.

"I barely knew them and I miss them," Harry said in barely more than a whisper. Sirius looked at him funny for a few seconds, and Harry swore he saw tears pooling in Sirius' eyes. Neither one really knowing what they were doing, they threw themselves into each other's arms.

"I do too, pup, I do too." Sirius said, stroking Harry's hair. Both tried hard to fight their tears without much success, and Hermione stepped back a few paces to give them space. After a couple minutes, they broke apart, and Sirius held Harry's gaze.

"I'm very happy and proud to be your Godfather, Harry," he said, "and I promise I'll try my absolute best to tell you everything you want to know about your mother and father." Harry grinned.

"Thanks," he said. "Hey Hermione!" He called, suddenly feeling elated after his brief cry with Sirius, "get back here! I promise I'm not a sponge any more!" He and Sirius burst out into peals of raucous laughter. Hermione grinned, patted Harry on the head and kissed him on the cheek.

"You can be a strange man sometimes, Potter," she said. Sirius laughed harder, and Hermione joined in.

"Excuse me, are we interrupting?" a voice said. Harry, Hermione and Sirius managed to get enough control over their giggles to see Fred and George staring down at them looking pleased.

"Hello Harry," Fred said.

"We're here to give you a message from Oliver Wood," George said.

"He says that he heard that Dumbledore gave you a day off, and says that even though you can miss the rest of your classes, you are not to miss Quidditch practice," Fred said.

"And Dumbledore also said that he and Hermione's parents have agreed to move up their meeting a bit to compensate," George finished.

"Hey, you're Arthur Weasley's twins aren't you?" Sirius asked.

"Yes," one of the twins replied, "I'm Gred, he's Forge."

"Hey, hold on just a second, what's that?" Sirius asked, pointing to a bit of paper sticking out of George's pocket.

"Nothing!" George said hastily, trying to hide it.

"That's not nothing," Sirius said excitedly, "that's our map! May I?" Frowning slightly, George handed the piece of paper to Sirius, who handed it to Harry, who frowned.

"There's nothing on here," he said, looking confused at Sirius.

"Just tap it with your wand and say '_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_…quietly," Sirius said, noticing that a few passersby students were looking curiously in their direction.

"Hang on a tick," Fred said, "how do you know how to work the map?"

"I helped write it," Sirius said proudly, "I'm Sirius Black, aka Padfoot." Suddenly, Fred and George dropped to their knees as though in the presence of a deity. Sirius chuckled.

"You're a marauder!" Fred said breathlessly, "you made the map that's taught us more than half the teachers!"

"You worked tirelessly to help the next generation of lawbreakers!" George said in the same tone. Sirius laughed.

"Yes, I guess we did," he said, "ready to try it out Harry?"

"_I solemnly swear I am up to no good_," Harry mumbled. Immediately, ink lines spread out over the parchment, and little ink dots labeled with it's owner's names came up. There was Mrs. Norris, the caretaker Mr. Filch's cat pacing near her master's office, Neville was with Professor Sprout in the Greenhouses and…

"Is that…?" Harry said.

"Dumbledore," Sirius confirmed, "in his office pacing. Nice to know some things don't change. Ah yes, one important thing to remember, Harry, to wipe it clean, just tap the map and say 'mischief managed', and no one will be able to read it." He turned to face the twins.

"I don't know how you two managed to get a hold of the Marauder's map, but I think it's time it was returned to it's correct lineage. That is, Harry."

"It's correct lineage?" Fred asked curiously. Sirius nodded.

"James—Prongs—was one of the Marauders, and is also Harry's father." The twins looked thoughtful for a minute, and then Fred waved a dismissive hand.

"Ah, go ahead Harry. If your father wrote it, it's yours. Besides, I reckon we've memorized it anyhow."

"Make sure to put it to good use, eh, Harry?" George added, winking, and he and Fred strolled away.

"Harry," Sirius said, "there're a million things I want to show you about that map! James would be so proud that it's in your hands! But I think it's time we headed into Hogsmeade to meet with your…er…girlfriend's parents." Harry and Sirius both started to walk towards the gates of Hogwarts, but Hermione held back.

"I don't want to do this," she said quietly. Harry walked back to her and squeezed her shoulder.

"I don't think Dumbledore will be mad if you don't come," he said, "but I'd like Sirius to meet your parents, and it seems like in light of everything, it would probably be a good idea for everyone to get to know each other." Hermione nodded, and taking both a deep breath and Harry's hand, joined them in heading to the Hog's Head.

When they arrived, Harry, Hermione and Sirius were quick to note the somber mood that permeated the bar, which was empty, for which Harry was grateful, but did not understand.

"Harry, Hermione, Sirius," Dumbledore greeted them, "may I introduce my brother Aberfourth? He very kindly agreed to remain closed until our meeting is over." Dumbledore indicated the old wizard behind the bar who nodded, and went back to wiping his mugs with a filthy rag that was really doing more harm than good.

"Um," Sirius said hesitantly, for the less than companionable silence that had greeted them had returned after Dumbledore introduced his brother, "Hermione, would you care to introduce me to your parents?"

"Um…Dad, this is Sirius Black, Sirius, this is my father, Alan, Mum, Sirius, Sirius this is my mother Emily." Sirius smiled at them and shook hands, immediately noticing Emily's slightly frightened look, and the cool glances Alan Granger was shooting him and Harry, and his smile faltered.

"Mr. Black, it is nice to meet you," Alan Granger said politely, "so you are…?"

"Harry's Godfather," Sirius said proudly.

"You'll forgive me," Alan said, "but the last time we heard about you, Hermione's Headmaster here told us you were…"

"Ah, yes," Sirius sighed, "a convicted criminal. I hope you believe me…er…?"

"Doctor Granger, if you don't mind, Mr. Black," Alan responded

"Okay, Dr. Granger then, I hope you believe me when I say that I was successfully cleared of all charges only just a few hours ago. Of course, that rat _also _got off the hook," Sirius muttered, more to himself than to Alan.

"He did?" Harry asked shocked. Sirius sighed.

"Yeah. Those idiots at the Ministry who reviewed my case agreed that between my memories and those of Pettigrew and Moony, there was enough evidence to support my claim to innocence, but they said there was not enough evidence to support our accusation that Pettigrew was working for Voldemort, so he gets to walk free, and that makes me very nervous. Because of that, Harry, Moony and I want to teach you some stuff which should help you. We've discussed it with Professor Dumbledore, and we will start as soon as possibly convenient. But," he added, looking back at the Grangers, "now is not the time to discuss that."

"Indeed," Dumbledore added, "Harry, Sirius, Hermione, please sit. Now, I asked you all here today so that I could tell you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, and you, Sirius, that something amazing has happened between your daughter and your Godson. Well, you know already, because Professor Lupin told you, Sirius, but, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger, Harry and Hermione are soul bonded." Sirius smiled excitedly at Harry, but the Grangers looked merely stunned.

"And what exactly does that mean, sir?" Alan asked.

"A soul bond," Dumbledore explained, "is the sharing of a very intense love between two parties that binds them magically together for life. It is a very precious and rare thing your daughter shares with Harry, not in the least being that it is supposed to be very difficult to start a bond with a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage."

"I see," Alan replied, though it was clear he didn't.

"There is another thing I must share with you," Dumbledore added, measuring his words, "because it affects all of you. I ask only that you try your hardest to remain calm."

"Of course, sir," Emily Granger replied. Dumbledore nodded.

"You see…" he paused, sensing Hermione's discomfort "…because of this bond, in the magical world, Harry and Hermione are married."

"_Married_?!" Emily said, aghast. Even Sirius seemed a little discomforted, and his brow furrowed with concern. Dumbledore nodded again.

"Yes. They will now have all the rights and privileges of a married wizarding couple, which I don't believe is much different from those of a Muggle couple." No one spoke for a few minutes, and then Alan gave a derisive snort.

"This is ridiculous!" He exclaimed, "you must be playing some sort of joke, Professor! My daughter cannot be married, she's way too young! Okay, this is kind of funny, but the joke's gone a bit far, hasn't it? I mean, my daughter isn't truly married, right?" When Dumbledore did not nod, or give any signs of it being a joke, Alan started to rant.

"I will not accept this!" He said loudly, "it's not funny at all any more. Hermione!" He said catching her eye, "I raised you better than this. Haven't I told you that you have to be patient and wait for the right moment to get married…as an _adult_! Didn't I say all that? Well, I don't know what persuaded you to do it, but I assure you, no daughter of mine is going to be married at thirteen!" No one responded, Hermione least of all, who was shaking in her seat, trying to remain strong. Harry was looking at Alan Granger with his mouth slightly open.

"Mr. Potter," Alan said, having caught Harry's eye, "I thought there might be something going on between you and my daughter, but I honestly didn't think you would be so…so rash in proposing like that to her! I thought I explicitly said to you not to do anything to harm her! And my wife and I allowed you our house and our food; we trusted you, and look what you did to us in return! You are no more my son than she is my daughter, and I will not support my daughter in having a relationship with someone like you! To think she wants to marry someone whose Godfather is a criminal! Good day to you all!" He stormed from the pub, ignoring Sirius who had jumped to his feet, hands balled into fists, and ignoring Hermione, who had put her head into her hands and was silently sobbing.

"Sirius, stop." Harry said calmly, "I'll go talk to him." He then kissed Hermione on the head a little uncertainly as he was in plain sight of Emily Granger, and then tore out of the pub after Alan.

Harry found him walking in a huff towards wherever it was that Dumbledore had told them to park, Harry reckoned.

"What in the name of Merlin was that all about?!" Harry asked angrily, catching up with Alan.

"I don't want to talk to you, Mr. Potter. You aren't on my 'good' list right now."

"Nor are you," Harry spat back, "do you think either Hermione or I asked for this to happen? Do you think it was any easier for us to hear that we're married to each other? Besides, I don't mind telling you that Hermione thought something like this might happen when Professor Dumbledore first told us of being married, and she was terrified you might say exactly what you said to her. I can't possibly tell you how much it upset her to think of either one of you disowning her, and now you've gone and made her nightmare a reality."

"What you two have done is the pinnacle of irresponsibility," Alan snapped, "I can't believe you don't understand that!"

"Normally, you'd be right," Harry said patiently, "and we would have been irresponsible, except there's just that little tiny factor you seem to keep forgetting, which is that I _never _proposed to Hermione, at least, not of my own accord, despite how much I love her. We were married because we loved and cared for each other enough to begin this bond, which not even the smartest of wizards seem to be able to comprehend. Even our friends' Ron and Ginny's mother doesn't fully understand how being in a bond makes you a married couple, and she's a pureblood witch by birth."

"Did your friend's mother tell you this herself?"

"No, Ginny told me that she told Hermione this, but I implicitly trust Ginny."

"But then…" Harry sighed.

"Look," he said, cutting Alan off, "I'm only going to say this once. Hermione and I share this soul bond and because of it we're married. I hope you can accept that we most certainly did not ask for this to happen, and that we don't know _how _it happened or why, and that the experience is just as weird and unsettling for us as it is for you, but even more, I hope you can come to terms with this, and accept that what's done is done and Hermione and I can't turn back and change anything. If you come back to the pub, I want you to apologize to your daughter, whom you have seriously hurt, and for good measure, my Godfather as well, who you also hurt with your thoughtless remarks. Hermione still loves you, you know, and wants you to be by her side through this. If you don't come back, I'll assume you don't care enough about Hermione to support her through something that, as I've already said, is as strange for her as it is for you." Harry turned and strolled back to the pub.

Upon returning, Harry noted that Hermione had moved over beside her mother, who was stroking her head, whispering things into her ear, while Sirius was deep in conversation with Dumbledore.

"Hello, Harry," Emily said kindly, "come join us."

"Thank you…er…?" Emily chuckled.

"Harry, you are still very much allowed to call me Emily," she said, "I don't know why Alan gets like that when he gets a bee in his bonnet about something, where he gets all polite like that. He'll come round, you'll see."

"I hope so," Harry responded, without any real conviction. And so they waited for Alan to come back, but in vain. After a good half-hour of waiting, Sirius finally said,

"Come on, Harry, Hermione, you two had better be getting back. Especially you, Harry, if you want to make your practice." Harry jumped up, alarmed, and quickly bade Emily and Dumbledore farewell. Hermione followed, saying a slightly more tender goodbye to her mother.

But even with Quidditch practice nearly started, the group of Sirius, Harry and Hermione walked slowly back to Hogwarts, all of them, but especially Hermione, preoccupied.

"Do you think he'll –" Sirius started, but Harry nudged him, to keep him from mentioning Hermione's father, indicating that she was still quite upset, but nevertheless shook his head negatively, his own face becoming progressively more downcast. After a few moments of silence, Sirius finally looked over at Hermione, and cleared his throat.

"Hermione," he said hesitantly, "I don't know if this will cheer you up any, but…I just want you to know that you…both you and Harry have my unconditional support in this whole ordeal." Hermione raised her head and smiled a bit at Sirius.

"Thanks, Mr. Black." She said.

"Please, Hermione, call me Sirius," he said. They continued to walk along in silence until they stopped in front of the gates of Hogwarts.

"Well," Sirius said, "I think I'll leave you two here, and I'll return to Moony's place. Hermione, it was very nice meeting you. Harry, I am so glad to have finally gotten to know you. Last time I saw you, you were like this big!" He put his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

"I was never that small!" Harry spluttered in mock indignation.

"I know," Sirius laughed, "although, you were one adorable kid as an infant. I need to see if Moony or I have any pictures of those days. Anyway, Harry, don't be shy if you ever need me, you can always write or call me by floo if you need to. And I'll be in touch about those lessons I mentioned, all right?"

"Sure thing," Harry responded.

"Knock 'em dead at practice," Sirius said, putting an affectionate hand on Harry's shoulders and winking, and with a pop, he disappeared, and Harry made his way back to the castle arm in arm with Hermione.

------

"Took you long enough," Alan Granger grunted as Emily Granger took her seat beside him, and started the motor of the car.

"You could have come back," Emily responded, "you could have supported your child."

"I am not supporting her in doing something so irresponsible!"

"Listen to yourself, you sound as arrogant and selfish as when we were first dating and you said I couldn't hang out with my other platonic boyfriends any more."

"I'm not being selfish!"

"Yes, you are. We've already been through this. Don't you remember when we first discovered Hermione was a witch? Even though you knew everything from that man who told us about the magical world, even though you knew why Hermione needed to go to Hogwarts, you still forbade her to do so."

"But I relented in the end."

"Yes, and you swore after that, when you finally saw how much Hogwarts meant to Hermione, you would support her in every way you could, and went back to loving Hermione, despite her being a witch, as you should have. Did you lie to my little girl?" Emily's voice was starting to become husky with emotion.

"I did not lie!"

"No? I seem to recall you saying something about understanding that this other world to which your daughter belonged would carry all of us through twists and turns, but you would support Hermione through each one? This is one of those twists and turns you mentioned, but I don't see you supporting her right now. I don't understand or like this any more than you do, Alan, but I can see that this is every bit as difficult for Hermione as it is for us. This is a time when she needs every bit of our love and support, and I'm going to give that as much as I possibly can, even if I don't care at all for the circumstances, but my love and support on it's own isn't going to be enough: she's your little girl too, Alan; she needs your love and support just as much as mine, so stop being selfish!"

"I am not being _selfish_!!"

"Dammit, Alan, you can't put your own daughter's well being in front of your morals! You care more about appearing respectable than supporting Hermione when she needs your support the most!! That's about as selfish as you could be!" They had already returned to London. How it was that they could go from London to such a remote part of Scotland so quickly always mystified Emily Granger, although she was pretty sure the magical world had something to do with it. She sighed.

"Will you drop me at the next bus stop, please?"

"Why?"

"I want to spend the night, maybe a couple days, with my mother."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. Until you get off your high horse, I guess." Alan sighed, and parked at the bus stop. Emily got out, but before she shut the door, she turned to Alan.

"Do me a favor," she said sadly, "while I'm away, you should ask yourself how much your family means to you, and whether or not you love me, or, more importantly, whether you love Hermione." She shut the door on a stunned Alan, and turned to sit on the bench of the bus stop shelter. As she watched him drive off, she felt tears pool in her eyes. She still loved him with all of her being, but if he wasn't prepared to open his own eyes, well…she would do anything to support Hermione…maybe even divorce him…but she hoped it would never come to that, as she knew that Hermione loved her father, and that divorcing him would not truly be supporting Hermione, but at the same time…he could be so pig-headed and stubborn at times! Sighing, she rummaged in her purse for anything that resembled a tissue and furiously dried her eyes as the bus stopped in front of her.

------

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," Ginny said as she rubbed Hermione's back, "I'm so sorry that meeting had to end like that." It was nearing nine at night, and Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron were gathered around the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, finishing their homework (all the teachers had given Harry and Hermione special papers to be done as a way of ensuring that they stayed on top of classes, despite their day off, and had given these to Ron who gave them to Harry and Hermione) and selectively enjoying some treats that had been left over from a Fred and George raid of the kitchens, avoiding all the toffees, as Neville had warned them that Fred and George had developed a sweet known as the 'Ton-Tongue Toffee', which, if eaten, caused your tongue to grow to astronomical proportions until it weighed approximately one ton, and none of the group felt like sporting tongues like that.

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said, flashing her friend a short-lived smile.

"Mate, what's wrong?" Ron asked, suddenly noticing how quiet and introspective Harry was being at that moment.

"This is all my fault," Harry mumbled, "I had to go have a bloody nightmare that started all of this. I didn't have to say anything, but I confessed everything."

"What are you on about?" Ron said, voicing the confusion he shared with Ginny and Hermione. Harry looked Hermione in the eyes.

"Mione, I'm so sorry; because of me, we're bonded even though no sane person would be at our age, because of me, your father won't talk to either of us any more. I wish I could end it all." Hermione felt wave after wave of shock, sadness and anger flood over her, but forced herself to remain calm.

"Do you mean that, Harry?" she asked, hoping her voice was steady. Harry kept his eyes on her, his expression unreadable.

"Yes," he responded softly, "I do."

"I…I see," Hermione said, and feeling hot tears in the corners of her eyes, took off running for the stairs to the girls' dorms. Harry turned to face the fire, not wanting to look at the angry almost hateful glance Ginny was sending his way. Suddenly, Ron slapped him on the back of the head.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Harry gasped.

"For being a complete pig," Ron responded none too warmly, "people say _I'm_ thick-headed when it comes to girls, but I would never tell the girl I loved such a hurtful lie! If the way you two have been acting recently, you do _not _want to end it all."

"A hurtful lie?? How do you work that one…" Harry began, but Ginny lost it.

"For bleeding Merlin's sake, stop being a stupid, thick, arse-less jerk!!" She exploded, "if you loved me the way you love Hermione, and I told you, out of nowhere, that I wished you and I never bonded and married, how in the name of all that makes sense, do you think you'd feel!??"

"I…"

"No. Don't bother." Ginny walked over to the staircase, pulled out her wand and muttered a few choice words.

"There," she said, "the spell that makes it turn into a slide has been temporarily deactivated. Now go up there and apologize to my best friend…and don't get any ideas; she'd be perfectly right to not forgive you or accept your apologies." Sighing, and seeing as neither Ron nor Ginny would stand for anything else, he accepted defeat and walked up the stairs and hesitantly entered Hermione's dorm. Her roommates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seemed to understand why he was there, for they made no indication that he had arrived other than to glare at him as they left.

He approached Hermione who was sitting on her bed, her back to him. He noticed that she had conjured up paper canaries out of thin air, and Harry had to marvel at her spellwork at a time like this. The canaries circled round her head, chirping in a most realistic way. Quietly, Harry coughed to get her attention. She turned, and Harry nearly did a double take as he saw her face: her eyes were very red and puffy, and wide tear tracks, suggesting heavy crying ran down her cheeks. To say that she didn't look happy at seeing him would be the understatement of the century. Upon seeing her face, Harry immediately felt the strongest, and strangest, sensation he had ever felt. He never loved someone as much as he loved that red-eyed angry girl sitting on the bed, but never had he felt so angry at one being before in his life, not even one of the Dursleys. He wanted to run up to her, hug her with all his might, and kiss her until she couldn't put together two coherent sounds, but he also wanted to yell at her at the top of his voice. Make her see that he only wanted them to be happy, and the best way to do that was to undo the bond.

"Hermione…" he started, not sure if he wanted to yell or discuss things rationally. There was a lot of appeal in the former, but he doubted it would have any effect.

"I don't have anything to say to you, you chauvinistic jerk," Hermione replied in a voice filled with so much hurt that Harry stepped back a bit, starting to feel, if it were possible, afraid.

"I just…wanted to say…" he cursed his so-called "valiant effort" to speak to her

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" Hermione asked in a chilling calm.

"I…I…"

"You realized that I _wasn't _the one, didn't you? You used all that power you've been blessed with ever since you-know-who couldn't bring you down to start the bond so you could make me feel like I was the most loved girl out there, then as soon as I turned my back, you stabbed me. _And_ you planted some idea in my dad's head to get him to disown me! And to think I trusted and loved you. What was I, a chew toy for your pleasures?" Now Harry was really frightened. Hermione had clearly lost it.

"No! Hermione, listen to me, it's not like that! I…" he squeaked. But Hermione didn't hear him, or if she did, she paid it no mind.

"Ron was right about you! I never would have believed that you would have had it in you to lure someone into a one night stand, but I guess you did," she looked at him, tears nearly blinding her, "_Oppugno!!_" She shrieked, and to Harry's horror, the canaries that had been, up until that point, calmly circling her head, now dived for him, their sharp, papery beaks cutting into his flesh.

"Hermione—ouch!—WAIT!!" Harry called, seeing Hermione striding quickly for the door, "It's not what you—ouch!—think!!"

"What is it then?" Hermione sobbed, "you're the only man I ever loved, Potter, and you're the only man I ever will love. I was so happy to be your wife, even if it was because of this bond, and even if it meant I was married at thirteen, even if it did mean that I was terrified to tell it to my parents. It didn't mean I wasn't happy or proud! And now you wish you could take that all away!"

"I was scared!" Harry yelled back, afraid he was going to loose his nerve, "you and your parents treated me so well when I was staying with you over the summer, especially your mother. No one except the Weasleys has ever treated me that way before! And your dad _did _walk out on you when he discovered we were married, and I knew how much both of your parents being beside you throughout this meant to you; I didn't want to be the one who took all that away from you!" Hermione stood there stock still, hardly blinking (as a result, her tears intensified) and just stared at Harry, wondering whether or not to believe him. Suddenly, she took out her wand. Harry flinched, but with a quick swoosh through the air, the canaries fell to the floor in little shards of paper. Harry bowed his head, ashamed.

"I hope someday you can forgive me, Mione. I feel like a fool," he wiped his hand across his face and looked at the blood there, "and I deserved this, but Mione, always understand that you are the only woman I ever loved, or ever will love. I never should have said what I did back there. Mione, I am _so _sorry."

"Let me see your wounds," Hermione said, and took out her wand, running it over the canary bites.

"I'm sorry abou' th' canaries, Harry," Hermione said gruffly, imitating Hagrid, "it's jus' sometimes they dun' know their own strength." She and Harry locked gazes for a moment, then burst into peals of riotous laughter.

"You know what," Harry said in between giggles, "we've just lived through our first marital spat."

"I hope there won't be many more of those," Hermione said with a little shudder, "I hate arguing with you, Harry."

"I hope that laughter I heard was a good sign?" Ginny said stepping around the corner with a tentative smile on her face, "have the battlefields quieted down?"

"They've ceased fire," Hermione said smiling, drying the last remnants of her earlier tears, "you can come in."

"My god, Harry, what happened to your face??" Ginny asked, seeing the cuts Hermione had not yet healed.

"Jus' a couple of canaries tha' didn' know their own strength," Hermione responded in her Hagrid-voice, succumbing to another fit of giggling.

"And an amazingly powerful witch who controlled them," Harry said, "remind me to never under appreciate you, Hermione, you are the brightest witch I've ever known." Hermione blushed, but smiled gratefully and leaned in and kissed Harry, who responded, putting all of his desperate sorrow, shame and regretfulness over his recent actions into the kiss.

"Oh, good, you've made up," Ron said, peeking over his sister's shoulder, "Ginny, the charm that turns the stairs into a slide is still off. We should turn it back on before McGonagall finds out that we've tampered with it."

"Fair point, bro," Ginny said, and took out her wand, doing the appropriate motions and incantation.

Most unfortunately, Ron was still standing on the second to topmost stair when Ginny changed everything back to normal, and like it had when Harry tried to go see Hermione, the siren started wailing and the stairs morphed.

"AAARRGHH!" Ron roared as he ungracefully fell, bumped and slid down the new slide. Harry, Hermione and Ginny roared with laughter.

"That _wasn't _funny!" Ron spluttered, to which the other three laughed even harder. Ginny and Hermione stuck their tongues out at him, while Harry had to fight with his laughter to get a breath. Ron shook his head.

"Good night, you all," he called over their chuckles.

"He's right, you know," Ginny said, before pulling a funny face. "That's twice in one night I've agreed with my prat brother! I need to see Madame Pomfrey!" The three chuckled.

"He _is _right, though," Ginny said again when she had regained her composure, "g'night you two."

"Night, Ginny," Harry and Hermione said in unison, to one last chuckle as Ginny waved to them, heading for the second-year girls' dorm.

"This is going to sound really, really strange," Hermione said facing Harry, "but after that fight, I really want to…sleep with you," she finished, blushing. Harry frowned, thinking a moment.

"So do I," he said after a couple seconds, "it feels like the right thing to do."

"Is this part of the bond, do you think?"

"It must be. I've always felt better when you're closer to me, but up until now, I've been fine sleeping in the boys' dorms, but now…it's like I can just tell I'll have a sleepless night without you."

"We should find McGonagall then." Harry nodded.

"Care for a ride, m'lady?" Harry asked, pointing to the stairs, which was still a slide. Hermione giggled and sat down on Harry's lap, putting a hand over her mouth to stop a girlish scream from escaping her lips as she and Harry slid down.

Professor McGonagall was not overly welcoming to her late night visitors, and her shock at their request—which she could barely even comprehend, for Hermione's petrified whisper—was palpable.

"Please, Professor," Hermione begged, "I promise we'll both be in out pajamas and we won't do anything, we swear by Merlin, and if Harry does anything, I'll…I'll…"

"She can push me out of the bed and force me to spend the rest of the night on the floor," Harry said, chuckling, yet wondering why on earth he was acting as though his life were one big comedy.

"Very well," McGonagall said after some pondering, "I will speak with the Headmaster about your request. You will remain here." After a wait of approximately five minutes, Professor McGonagall returned, not looking altogether pleased.

"Professor Dumbledore says that your…er…urges are a natural part of your bonding and you are to be allowed to bed together. I ask your patience for only a few more minutes; I need to round up Professor Flitwick; he and I will make up your room."

"Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger!" Professor Flitwick squeaked happily fifteen minutes later, "your room has been created! Please, follow me.

"I have been wanting for a very long time to congratulate the two of you," Professor Flitwick said as they walked from McGonagall's office back to Gryffindor tower, "I happen to know a lot about bonds. Well, it's something that is studied quite heavily in the Charms field, and so I just want to say how happy I am for you two; a bond under the best of circumstances is a wonderful and rare thing to share, and the odd circumstances surrounding your bond make it all the more precious. If ever you need to know anything about your bond, or why you might be feeling a certain way because of it, you are always free to find me." He led them into Gryffindor tower.

"Here we are," he said, leading them to a new painting that featured a rather good rendering of a Paris café in the night during a rainstorm. It reminded Hermione vividly of her favorite vacation spot, near where her grandmother lived. The painting itself was tucked in a spot at the far end of the common room beside two other paintings, making it look inconspicuous.

"Now," Professor Flitwick said, "we've assigned it a temporary password which is 'Potter-Granger-bond', but I recommend you two work out a password that only the two of you know. When you've thought one up, come to me, and I'll instruct you in how to change it. Don't worry, you won't need to tell me what the new password is. When you go in, there are two bathrooms, one for each of you. You'll forgive me, but none of us trust you two _that _far yet. Goodnight." He left, giving them a cheery smile and a wave.

" 'Potter-Granger-bond'," Harry spoke softly, aware of the presence of a few 6th and 7th years who were by the fireplace finishing last-minute assignments. Harry stepped into the room, followed by Hermione, and both grinned at what they saw.

The room was only marginally smaller than the guest room Harry had stayed in at the Grangers' house (and consequently Hermione's room, which was a twin) and no less appealing. A carpet of seamlessly interwoven blue and green (Hermione and Harry's favorite respective colors) covered the floor, while the walls were painted in muted Gryffindor colors. The wood was a gorgeous mahogany, and the doors smelt of fresh varnish. Bronze plaques on the bathroom doors read: 'Hermione's (Hers)' and 'Harry's (His)'. Landscape photos gave the room a homey feel and two gorgeous full-length French windows at the far end offered a spectacular view of the grounds. A large dresser stood in between the two bathroom doors, and across the room was the bed, which had a plethora of pillows, a gorgeous green sheet, a cream colored top-sheet and a plaid duvet cover—it looked heavenly.

"You know, for the first time, I think I actually _want _to go to sleep," joked Harry.

"Let's get to it, then!" Hermione said happily, and pranced over to her bathroom. Harry grinned and followed her, stepping into his own bathroom, which was just as appealing as the room outside. Gold taps lined the tub, shower and sink, and a medicine cabinet in a beautiful Florentine style held a toothbrush and some toothpaste, and though he knew it was pointless, a hairbrush, beside which was shampoo and a container of shaving cream. Grinning, Harry jumped into the flow of the shower, and after a few minutes of showering, put on his pajamas, shaved, and magically dried his hair and came out, lying down on the bed, which was about as soft as could be.

Hermione came out a few moments later, dressed, Harry was overjoyed to see, in her blue pajamas. She too had chosen to shower, but had opted to dry her hair with a bath towel, reflecting her Muggle-based showering habits, and had made the towel up in a turban. When she got in the bed beside Harry, she took the turban off, letting her still-damp hair cascade over Harry and herself.

"I have been longing to tell you just how adorable you look in those pajamas," Harry said softly. Hermione responded by snuggling into him, her damp, wonderful hair cascading over his body in waves. Harry grabbed a fistful of hair and kissed it—wonderful, like so much else about this girl.

"Lights out?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded, and Hermione killed the lamp beside her, while Harry spooned her.

"Goodnight, Harry, I love you with all my heart," she said.

"Goodnight, Mione, I love you too," he responded, "so much."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before you say anything, let me be clear: I am 100 aware that, as this story thus far is taking place during 'Prisoner of Azkaban', I introduced Hermione's '_Oppugno_' spell three years earlier than in canon and this is 100 intentional: given what Harry said to Hermione after their disastrous meeting with the elder Grangers, he deserved Hermione's wrath as much—if not more than—Ron did when she set her paper canaries on him in 'Half-Blood Prince'. Also, as we are never told where Hermione learnt that spell, and considering two factors (1: Hermione is Hermione and 2: There is evidence that she reads ahead, very literally, in her schoolbooks), it is fair for me to say, I think, that I am _not _contradicting what Rowling wrote; I just bent time a bit, so I would appreciate it if you bear that in mind before you accuse me in your reviews, which I love getting, by the way; it makes the whole project worthwhile, so thank you!


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

When Harry woke up the next morning, Hermione was lying on top of him, using his chest as a pillow. He grinned at her soft breathing and tightly closed eyes, making it obvious she wasn't likely to get up soon. He didn't mind, and glancing at the bedside table which bore a clock, he knew he could let Hermione sleep for another half-hour before they had to get up. Smiling to himself, he adjusted his position to ensure Hermione's comfort. She moaned barely audibly and gripped Harry tighter, who responded in type, planting a feather-light kiss on her nose. He nearly fell asleep, but was startled by the noise of the rest of Gryffindor tower awakening. Gently, he nudged Hermione in the ribs.

"Mione," he whispered, "Mione, we have to get up." He stroked her side gently, and with another moan, she squirmed to the other end. Harry was shocked at first, but then grinned broadly when he realized what it meant, and began earnestly tickling her. Her eyes flew open.

"Eek! Harry…Harry, don't…don't _do _that!" Hermione said breathlessly between giggles.

"Are you awake, my love?" Harry asked, dropping his hands and grinning. She smacked his arm lightly, but said,

"Good morning, precious."

"Good morning, my dream," Harry replied, kissing her. She returned the kiss, and for a few minutes, they were locked in a passionate kiss, and then broke apart, each proceeding to their respective bathroom to shower.

When they got to the Great Hall for breakfast, they noticed both Ron and Ginny had saved them seats and also looked very anxious.

"Where were you last night?" Ron asked as Harry took a seat beside him. Harry shrugged.

"I must have fallen asleep in front of the fire while I was doing my work," he answered vaguely. Ron shot Hermione a glance, who shot a glance right back at him that plainly said she wasn't about to spill any beans either, and Ron exchanged shrugs with his sister and turned back to his breakfast. About a half hour later, they all finished up and proceeded to head to classes.

"Bye, Ginny!" Harry called.

"See ya, Gin," Hermione added.

"Stay out of trouble, eh?" Ron said. Ginny winked at them and strolled off to her first class, History of Magic, while Ron, Harry and Hermione made their way—reluctantly—to the North Tower for Divination. Professor Trelawney seemed to have obtained new levels of vindictiveness towards Harry and Hermione, due to their lack of attentiveness in class. Hermione, though not very like her, tended to mostly snort at everything the Professor said, and Harry made no attempt whatsoever to try and discern things.

"I could actually be learning something useful instead of sitting here!" Hermione whispered waspishly, "I could be learning Arithmancy!" Harry nodded. He didn't really like the sound of Arithmancy either, but just about anything had to be better than sitting here.

It was, therefore, a great relief when that period ended, and by the time Harry had sat down beside Hermione at the front of Lupin's classroom for Defense against the Dark Arts (their last class that day), he felt much more cheerful. But after an invigorating lesson on Red Caps, Harry's cheer was replaced with apprehension when Lupin asked him to stay a bit.

"Harry, Hermione, may I see you two for a minute, please?" Lupin said as everyone began to pack up. Slowly, they approached him, looking anxious, causing Lupin to laugh outright.

"You two are _not _in trouble," Lupin said cheerfully, "I just wanted to propose to you—Professor Dumbledore informed Sirius and I of your…fight, and we've both been reading up a bit on bonds, and wondered if you two would care to have dinner in my office with me, and we can talk about it, and those lessons Sirius wants to start."

"Okay, Professor," Harry replied. Lupin smiled.

"I need to go place my order with the kitchen staff," Lupin said, "what would you two fancy?"

"Anything with duck in it?" Harry asked, grinning and winking at Hermione.

"Most likely," Lupin replied, "At the very least, I think they could whip up a roast duck. Hermione, how about you?" Hermione thought for a moment.

"Mum has some friends who live in Maine in America, and they have this dish, clam chowder, it's very good."

"So that's one roast duck and one clam chowder," Lupin said, imitating a waiter, and making them all laugh. "Anything to drink?"

"Did you hear Ron prattling on about Butterbeer?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Yes," she replied, "it got a bit annoying toward the end. I mean, it's only a drink."

"I think we'll have two," Harry said to Lupin. Lupin raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Okay," he said after a bit, "if you two will just wait for a few minutes, I'll go get all that ready."

He returned shortly, bearing a tray with two pork meals, Harry's duck and Hermione's clam chowder and a carafe of Butterbeer, and beckoned with his head that they follow him into his office.

"I have a newfound respect for Muggle waiters and waitresses," Lupin grunted as he set the tray down. Harry and Hermione chuckled. "I'll just floo Sirius and then we can eat," Lupin said, and walked over to the fireplace. After Sirius arrived, they all tucked into their food, not really talking. Lupin and Sirius both noted how attuned to the other Harry and Hermione were, and without verbal communication, each had let the other sample their food, and though it looked like Harry was about to ask, Hermione had handed him a napkin before a single syllable had left Harry's mouth.

"Well now," Lupin said after everyone had clearly finished, "Sirius and I, as I said already, have been reading up on bonds, although there is scarce that has been written on the subject, and we just wanted to help clarify anything. Apparently, from what we've read, the fight you two just had marks a very strong bond—some bonded couples never have such an argument apparently—and also marks a very tough spot in phase three, because the desires you both have been feeling in the aftermath of the fight apparently means that your bond is rapidly progressing toward stage four." Hermione gasped a bit.

"And," Sirius said, picking up where Lupin left off, "apparently, bonds as strong as yours can move at a…rapid pace, and many bonded pairs have been known to…loose control of themselves."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because the magic of the bond advances your desires where otherwise you might not be emotionally ready for such things—completing stage four, for instance," Sirius replied.

"Oh," Harry said unemotionally.

"I think, for one," Sirius said, "that as you are at this stage, it's obvious—and I'm sure I'm not telling you anything you don't already know—that you will likely want to spend all of your time together, in physical contact of some form or another. I trust you both, but I still think it would be a good idea, Harry, for you to come see either Remus or myself if you feel like you might be progressing rapidly, or you are unsure of why you're feeling some way or another…I suppose I will have to give you…_that _talk sooner than later." Harry noted with amusement that Sirius seemed at least as horrified by the prospect of talking relationships with women together as he was. Collecting himself, Sirius turned to Hermione.

"I think it's important you try to keep open with your parents, too," he told her, "probably your mother would be the…best bet." Hermione definitely looked downcast at the prospect of having to talk with her parents.

_It'll be okay, Mione,_ Harry said, _I think your mum was okay with…this whole deal…and I'll always be there for you for whatever you need…_it was only when he saw Sirius and Lupin's faces, mystified but excited, as Hermione had snuggled into him, that he realized he had shared a thought with her. He sighed. He was only trying out possible ways he could comfort her, and yet she had heard the thought all the same.

_Thanks, Harry,_ Hermione sent back as a thought.

_Oh wow_ Harry said.

_Yeah._

_Is this part of the bond do you think??_ Hermione chuckled mentally and out loud.

_We're facing two men who have very kindly researched bonds on our behalf…why don't you ask them??_ She sent playfully but truthfully. This time Lupin chuckled.

"I think I might have a pretty good idea what you two were…talking about," he said, "and to answer your question, yes, this is a part—and an integral one at that—of your bond. This is proof in the pudding of the strength of your bond. You see, when a very strong bond is shared, sometimes the two parties can become able to share each other's thoughts without speaking a word, and often as a direct result of that connection, can also develop empathy for the other person's feelings, as I believe Harry has just now demonstrated." Hermione yawned.

_I'm tired,_ she said obviously. Harry chuckled.

_Well, my lap's always open,_ he replied, amused.

_Thanks,_ Hermione sent back drowsily, and lay her head down on Harry's lap who chuckled softly.

"I suppose I really am going to have to get used to seeing things like this," Sirius said lightly, but Harry and Lupin did not miss the concern under that.

"Does that mean we'll still be sleeping together?" Harry asked, praying that the answer was what he figured—and hoped—it would be.

"Yes," Lupin said chuckling again, "this will be the stage you two will be at until you decide the time is…er…right to complete stage four."

"That reminds me," Hermione said (aloud) sleepily, not opening her eyes, "Professor Flitwick suggested we change the password to our room."

"That's a good idea," Lupin said, "do either of you have any ideas?" Harry shook his head, but Hermione said, still very sleepily,

"Harry, do you know 'Pig Latin'?" Harry shook his head again.

"It's amazing how few wizards know these code-languages that six year old muggle children know," Hermione said chuckling, "if we change the password to something like 'Otter-pay Anger-Gray Esidence-Ray', I doubt anyone would have an idea what we were talking about." Harry thought it sounded good, but Sirius looked thoughtful.

"You've certainly got the right idea, Hermione," he said, "but once someone hears you say that a few times over, it's easy to mimic what you say."

"That's a problem they'd have regardless of the password," Lupin said, frowning. Sirius shrugged.

"I guess when we change the password, we'll need to set up a few additional security measures," he said.

"Well then, I'll floo Filius and we'll go over and make the changes," Lupin said.

"So, my sweet Mione," Harry said chuckling, "are you going to be able to walk back, or," he pulled out his wand, "do I need to levitate you?" Hermione glanced at the wand.

"I'd rather you carried me," she said sweetly, putting her arms around his neck.

"Okay," Harry replied, starting to stand and causing Lupin and Sirius to laugh.

"Harry, do you really want to be seen walking through the castle like that?" Sirius asked, grinning.

"I guess not," Harry said, sitting back down, "_accio _invisibility cloak!" After a few moments, Harry's invisibility cloak, one of the few hand me downs he had from his father, floated towards him. Sirius smiled reminiscently as Harry covered himself and Hermione with it. When Harry was sure that he and his girlfriend were thoroughly covered up, they left Lupin's office, Lupin and Sirius leading the way.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Lupin said to Sirius.

"That night Snivelly all but raped Lily?" Sirius asked sadly. Lupin nodded.

"And James had to carry her to the hospital under that cloak because she was naked and Snivelly had banished her clothes," he said in the same tone. Under the cloak, Harry's eyes widened and Hermione had to bury her head painfully into his shoulder to keep from gasping.

"I don't know _what _Dumbledore sees in him," Lupin said, "and I really don't care, but he is such an able potions brewer…I owe him a big debt of gratitude because he is one of the few I know who can make the Wolfsbane potion."

"I'm sorry," Sirius suddenly sighed, "James and I were with you the day we all first heard of the potion, and we could have learned it, but we didn't."

"Just…just don't worry about it," Lupin said, "we're here." Professor Flitwick was waiting for them, and grinned at Lupin and Sirius, but it lasted briefly.

"Where are Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter?" he asked. Lupin quietly whispered something in Flitwick's ear and his smile returned, and he led them all, including the invisible Harry and Hermione into the room and over to the portrait of the Paris café.

"I've considered what you said to me over the floo earlier, Remus, and I've put on a charm around the portrait that will cause anyone in the vicinity to go temporarily deaf if Harry or Hermione are speaking the password," Flitwick assured the group.

"Now," he said, "if Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger would kindly show themselves…" gently, Harry put Hermione down and took the cloak off of them.

"What I need you both to do," Flitwick explained, "is speak your new password to the painting, so that it can memorize the new term." Harry approached, and Flitwick put on a recording charm. While they had walked back, Harry and Hermione had silently agreed with Sirius' interpretation of the Pig Latin password, and agreed that it should be something more basic and common, and had changed it to '_Bond, James Bond_' (Hermione's idea) and Harry, who liked the amusing double meaning, went up and spoke the words, followed by Hermione. After both had said the words, the lamppost nearest the foreground of the painting made a motion rather like a person nodding acknowledgment, and Flitwick confirmed that the painting had accepted the new password. Harry and Hermione had bade Sirius, Lupin and Flitwick good night and stepped into their room. Hermione noticed that there was a letter lying on the bed, and went over to pick it up. Her hand shook slightly as she looked at the return address.

------

It was lonely in the house all alone. That was the first thing Alan Granger noticed upon entering his home after leaving his wife at a bus stop. He should have been more forceful, made her see reason, and return home with him, but he had just caved and let her do as she pleased. He walked around, not really with any specific intent, thinking. Both Harry and Emily had accused him of not caring enough about Hermione to help her through the bond, and that hurt. Seriously bad. He cared the world for his Hermione; his only child and beloved daughter, and yet they questioned that. Why? He wanted, not as they seemed to think, to hurt her, rather, he wanted to _protect _her. He had studied history very thoroughly when he was in University, and for the life of him, he could not think of a time in the entire history of mankind when a girl was married at only thirteen years of age, and he didn't want his daughter to be the one who went down in the history books as the one who was married so young. Sighing, like he had so many times when Hermione was much younger, he opened the door to her bedroom as if to check on her, and walked over to her bed. He looked down at her bedside table and found a photo that she kept there apparently for a long time. It was a photo of Hermione when she was born, held in the arms of her new, proud mother and father. Alan Granger smiled. He was immensely proud of his family; they had been through so much together. And then, suddenly, what both Harry and Emily had tried to tell him hit him, and he all but ran to the study, stopping first to make a very important phone call.

_My dear, sweet Hermione,_

_How can I say I'm sorry? I don't know, but I am, and I hope you can believe me when I say it's so. Your mother went away for a bit after that day when we met with your Headmaster and your boyfriend…I mean, husband's godfather…it feels weird to say that already, even in a letter…I have had time to think over what I said to you all, and I know now that I did not mean any of it, at least not truly._

_The first thing you must understand is that I absolutely do not want to, and will not disown you; that was an overreaction to your new predicament – I love you so much and nothing could make me more happy to be your dad, or more proud to say that I am the father of Hermione Granger, or should I say, Potter. I don't like this any more now than I did when I walked out on you all, but I understand now that you are not at fault for any of this; that it is one of those things that only the magical world could do, and I know that estranging myself from you and your mother, who has stood by you very faithfully by the way, will achieve nothing except to break our three hearts and I do not want that at all. I will never, I doubt, fully understand the magical world. Not your Headmaster; not that man who visited us when you first got your acceptance letter will ever be able to explain your world to me so that I will fully understand it, but I have not been trying very hard to do so, and I promise I will try harder from now on._

_I want to be your dad again. Please, baby, I cannot say how profoundly sorry I am, and I beg you to forgive me. I love you so much sunflower, and I hope you accept my apologies._

_I will always be here for you._

_Your father._

Tears streamed silently down Hermione's cheeks as she silently handed her father's letter to Harry, who read it through then walked over to Hermione, hugging her as lovingly as he could manage.

_He really loves you, you know,_ Harry sent silently.

_I know,_ Hermione responded, _it's too good to be true. For a moment, after he walked out on me, I…_ Hermione started to cry …_I wanted to…to wake up and realize he wasn't my dad…I didn't want to know him; there was no way he could be my parent._

_When I woke up after that incident I had that nightmare about that I told your mother about, _Harry sent comfortingly, resting his head on top of hers, _I wondered how on earth my parents could have possibly loved me; I questioned how on earth two people who were supposed to love me so deeply could possibly leave me with people as horrid as the Dursleys. In my thoughts I accused them of not being my parents. I feel beyond horrible these days that I ever thought that; I mean, they loved me so much as to provide me with the ultimate sacrifice…and I had told them they weren't my parents. I don't know why parents can do these things to their children, Mione, but I think they do it because they love us so deeply._ Hermione's sobs tripled in intensity, and Harry held her, massaging her back and whispering sweet nothings in her ear, kissing her softly.

"Come on," he said both mentally and verbally, "we ought to go to bed. I'm exhausted, and we didn't even get around to discussing those lessons Sirius wants to talk to us about." Hermione gave a strangled chuckle, nodded, and she and Harry left for their bathrooms to change. Harry was too overwhelmed to even bother with a shower and just put on his pajamas and lay down on the bed, joined momentarily by Hermione, and they had just barely finished bidding each other good night when they were in a deep sleep.

------

"Hello, this is Ruth Gleason, to whom am I speaking?"

"Ruth, it's Alan, I…is Emily there?"

"Yes, but I warn you, she's not really going to be too thrilled to speak to you, Mr. Granger. Nor am I, come to that. You've really hurt my daughter; she's been starting to question your faithfulness to her, and how truthful you were on your wedding day."

"I…I know. I was very bad with her and with Hermione, and I want to apologize."

"Very well, I will get Emily, but don't be surprised if she refuses your apologies. And Alan – she wouldn't be wrong to do so."

"I know. Just please let me talk with her, will you?"

"Very well."

"Hello?"

"Hi, honey, it's Al,"

"I really wish you wouldn't call me 'honey'."

"I…I…oh, very well."

"What did you want to talk to me about, Al?"

"I just wanted to say how profoundly sorry I am for everything I've said to both you and Hermione recently, after discovering about this bond."

"Are you really?"

"Yes. You were right about me being a bit blind and not being able to look beyond my morals. I was just…nervous, and I wanted so much to protect Hermione…I guess I just got carried away."

"Too right you did. So…does this mean you're going to go back to supporting our daughter?"

"Yes. Without question or hesitation."

"I hope you've told my Mione that; she needs to hear it more than I do."

"I've already sent her a letter."  
"Good. Do you remember what that…I think Hermione said they're called Special Services Healers…said to us when he counseled us on Hermione's acceptance to Hogwarts? He said that we were free, as her parents, to direct her education as we saw fit, but that, since she had magical abilities, sending her to Hogwarts would help her reach her full potential as a being…Al, that's all I've ever wanted for my daughter: to love her and support her in becoming to her full potential. I don't understand the magical world at all, and it can be so painful and frustrating to have a daughter who has such a dual existence, and yet…I'm so happy that she's working on becoming all that she can be. Hermione is such a wonderful person, Al, and I can't turn away from her, even with all that's going on."

"Neither can I. Please, can you forgive me for everything I've done? I was wrong, and I hope that both you and Mione can forgive me. I…I love you. I love you both, so much."

"I love you so much too…I forgive you."

"Will you come back here? I miss you; it's lonely here without you."

"Of course I will."

------

Harry and Hermione gratefully awoke knowing it was a Saturday and didn't have to rush into anything. Without changing or showering, both got out of the bed and moved over to the sofa with the intent of a good, long snogging session before heading down to breakfast. Harry lay down and invited Hermione to lie down on top of him, which she did, molding her body into his, covering his face in loving kisses. Harry held her, letting his hands rub and explore her back, though he showed admirable restraint in not letting them wander too low. Gently, he brought his left hand up to her head and brought her lips to his and began to truly snog her.

"Hermione," he said, surfacing for air, "when you were telling Mrs. Weasley about when you had too much ice cream that day when we were shopping for all our school stuff, and you said something about wanting something…er, can I ask what you wanted?" Hermione chuckled.

"I wanted you," she whispered, "especially when I was being sick; I wanted you to be with me and comfort me, hold my hair back…don't get me wrong, I was happy that Mum was there…I guess I wanted both of you. I know I shouldn't have eaten all that ice cream, but Mr. Fortescue makes it so good, especially his sundaes, and he's so nice; even Mum and Dad couldn't refuse him, and they _hate _what sugar does to your teeth. When I went to bed that night, I wanted you to kiss my cheek."

"I wanted to the moment I saw you lying there," Harry confessed, "but just moments earlier, your dad told me not to do anything that would harm you, and I wasn't sure if he would be okay with it." Hermione giggled.

"Probably not," she said.

"Do you remember what side you were sleeping on?" Harry asked.

"Er…my left, I think," Hermione said, slightly confused.

"Roll over, would you?" Harry asked teasingly. She did, and Harry kissed her cheek with all the feeling he could muster. Suddenly, with a crackling noise, the fireplace came to life, and the face of Sirius grinned up at the two.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" he asked, chuckling. Harry and Hermione broke apart, startled.

"Sirius!" Harry said, jumping down to the floor and trying to hide his blush.

"Perhaps I'd better get dressed," Hermione said, and all but ran to her bathroom.

"You ought to take a leaf out of her book, Harry," Sirius said, trying hard to not laugh any harder, "don't worry, I'll wait."

"I'll be quick," Harry said and also left for his bathroom.

After a few minutes, they returned, dressed in more decent clothes.

"So, what's up?" Harry asked Sirius when he had sat back down beside the fireplace.

"Well, Remus and I never got a chance to talk to you about those lessons, Harry, which actually turned out to be a good thing, because it gave us some time to think over what we were planning. Because of this bond, I think it is necessary for Hermione to learn this stuff as well, not to mention I expect you two probably wouldn't want to work unless you were working with each other, and I also expect that you will be more powerful working together, based on the strength of your bond. Of course, I'm only guessing."

"So when do we start?" Harry asked, curious.

"Today," Sirius responded, "Remus talked to Dumbledore, and he gave you permission to go off campus, and we've fixed up a gymnasium of sorts as an addition to Remus' house, so that's where you two need to floo—I assume you have floo powder?" Harry looked up at the mantelpiece and saw a small pot holding some.

"Yes, we do." Harry assured his godfather.

"Okay," said Sirius, "the floo address is 'Lupine Lane', as in the flower. We'll see you momentarily." And he withdrew his head. Harry then reached up into the pot and took a handful of floo powder, and threw it in the fireplace.

"See you in a minute," he told Hermione, blowing her a kiss and stepping into the green flames, "Lupine Lane!" He disappeared. Moments later, he reappeared in the kitchen of a very small building. He looked around, taking in his new surroundings. Lupin grinned in an ashamed sort of way as he observed Harry's glances.

The whole house was only a little bit over one-third the size of the Burrow, and in just as ill repair, perhaps more so. A couple of the walls were so warped and rotted that Harry concluded that they were only still together due to magic; any Muggle building that was in such a state would have surely collapsed. In places, the roof had fallen in, and Lupin had put rain-repelling and heat retaining charms on the places that were bare. But like the Burrow, Lupin's house had a very homey feel to it. Having noticed Lupin's glance, however, Harry refrained from saying anything, and was spared the ability to anyhow, as Hermione had pulled herself from the fireplace and thrown herself at him. Sirius and Lupin laughed.

"Sit down, you two, sit down," Lupin said kindly after Hermione released Harry, "have either of you had breakfast?"

"No," Harry answered.

"Coffee and eggs sound okay?"

"Sure," they both responded. Lupin went over to the stove, waved his wand a couple times, and soon eggs were frying and water was boiling. After only a three minute wait, Lupin returned with eggs for Harry and Hermione and coffee for all four of them.

"So," Sirius said, after collecting his thoughts, "as you know, Wormtail got off the hook. If the Ministry had even bothered to check for the Dark Mark—"

"The what?" Harry interrupted.

"The Dark Mark, Harry," Sirius explained, "Is a magical tattoo that all Death Eaters have on their right underarms. It served as a means of the Dark Lord alerting all his followers. If he put a wand to his, or any other Death Eater's Dark Mark, it would burn black, and they'd know to apparate directly to where the Dark Lord was waiting. If the Ministry had bothered to check Wormtail's arm, obviously he'd have it, and it would be obvious our accusations that he was working for Voldemort would have been accurate, and I would have gladly given him my old cell in Azkaban."

"But…but then if they had looked at your arm," Harry said, frowning, "when you had your trial, if they had bothered to do the same, it would have been obvious you _weren't _a Death Eater."

"That's right," Sirius said in a disgusted voice, "except I never had a trial."

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed, "that's a serious miscarriage of justice!"

"Tell me about it, Hermione," Sirius said, laughing darkly, "the Ministry is just a bunch of lowly cowards. I suspect Fudge himself is allowing the Death Eaters to bribe him. At Wormtail and my double trial, Fudge just said that to make someone show their arm was an 'invasion of privacy'. You should have seen the look of disgust on his face when the jury voted almost unanimously that I was innocent. They only gave me two hundred Galleons in compensation, which is less than a third of what someone like me deserves. They did promise me legal support when I petition for your custody, Harry, which is good, but still…" he sighed. Lupin gave Sirius' shoulder a squeeze.

"Let's not talk any more about this," Lupin said, "we'll sort it out somehow, but right now we really need to discuss those lessons. Care to do the honors, Padfoot?" Sirius took a deep breath and nodded.

"With Wormtail on the loose," Sirius said, "I fear, and Moony and Dumbledore have agreed, that it is likely that Wormtail will help Voldemort regain his strength. I need not say, Harry, that if we're right about this, you will be a main target, maybe even _the _target…" Sirius paused as Hermione looked over at Harry, clearly terrified. Harry tried not to look her directly in the eyes, fearing he might loose some of his composure, as he was equally terrified, but he nevertheless held her in a calming way, "…you need to be prepared as possible," Sirius continued, "and so I want to propose the following: Remus and I want you both to become Animagi, like us; I think you'd be surprised how many advantages having an unregistered animal form has, we want you to learn advanced dueling, charms, potions, defense…in short, anything that will help you survive."

"I want to show you the gym we've created," Lupin added, and got up, leading the others to a door that was in better shape than the others, and opened it, indicating that Harry, Hermione and Sirius should step on through. When they did, Harry couldn't help but gasp. It looked, for the most part, like a Muggle gymnasium and basketball court molded into one. At the far end was a complete set of Muggle exercise machines. In the middle, where the basketball hoops would have been, were two sets of shorter, smaller Quidditch goal posts. Both Harry and Hermione were quick to note that the ceiling was a good three or four times taller than that of a Muggle gym, and nearly as many times longer and wider.

"Jump, and let yourself fall," Lupin suggested. Harry and Hermione looked at him like he was crazy. The floor was very obviously wooden, likely covering a concrete foundation.

"Try it," Sirius encouraged, "I think you'll be surprised." Harry shrugged to himself, and jumped, thinking that he was mad. He hit the floor and was astounded to note that it was like falling onto a downy bed.

"We put the most powerful cushioning charm we could find on the entire floor," Lupin explained, "as we felt like stunning would be a good skill to hone as much as we can, and I also want to work with you on advanced, non-Quidditch flying."

"Hermione," he said, turning to her, "I know you don't much like flying, but I really cannot stress how important it is for both of you to learn these skills. And besides, I know both Sirius and I will be more than happy to help, and I'm sure Harry would be nothing less than overjoyed, to help you learn."

"Of course!" Harry said, beaming, thrilled at the prospect of teaching his girlfriend (they agreed to not call each other husband and wife until they were 17, the age where a wizard or witch is considered an adult) something he loved so much, "one of those books on Quidditch Ron reads all the time mentioned that there are charms that prevent a broomstick from flying beyond a specified height, so starting you out slowly shouldn't be a problem."

"Exactly," Sirius said grinning, and turned to face Harry, "You see that we've included Quidditch materials? Lupin and I both think that, funny as it may sound, getting you and Hermione proficient in all the positions of Quidditch, but especially Keeping and Beating, should help your stamina, concentration and alertness to what's going on around you, and that will be invaluable. Later on, I want to give you both obstacle courses, and we'll run things like airborne battle simulations."

"Right now, though," Lupin said, "we'll be focusing on your Animagus forms. Sirius and I have already begun brewing the Animagus revealer potion, which is the first step. It'll be ready in a month, and then we'll have you both drink it. Also, as these lessons will be physically challenging, so we brought you some books on stretches that you should start to do every morning, as well as push-ups, starting with small sets and building them up as your bodies get accustomed to the strain and stress. Here, I have some books I'd like you both to read." He pulled out two books on Animagi, '_Transfigurations Moste Permanent_' and '_Animagi Through The Years_', and a book on Muggle yoga, suggesting that Harry and Hermione read up on the yoga, to help them with the exercising they would be doing, and pointed out that there were similar exercises the Animagus books had that would help them prepare for drinking the revealer potion.

"Have either of you got any questions?" Lupin asked after he had finished explaining everything. Both Harry and Hermione shook their heads. "Well then," Lupin said, "I think you two better head back with me to Hogwarts."

"There's just one last thing," Sirius said as the others prepared to floo back to Hogwarts, "if there's one thing, and I know this is going to sound…corny, but if there is one thing Voldemort does not know, it's love, and I just want to say that I think you two will be a great asset to each other, because it is obvious how deep your love for the other runs, but I want to warn you that Voldemort may use that against you. Also, I think it would be very wise to become as close to your friends as possible. As I understand it, you both recently had a bit of a fall out with, I believe, Ron Weasley, but in light of Voldemort's imminent return, I advise you to repair that damage and become close again, and with his sister, Ginny, too. There is great power in the bonds of friendship and trust, neither of which Voldemort has, and that could very well be our saving grace."

"I agree," Lupin said, "you might want to even tell them about these lessons. There may be advantages down the road to having them join us." Harry nodded.

"Call me if you ever need me, Harry," Sirius said, "and Hermione, you can too, of course if you choose. I'll call as soon as the revealer potion is ready. Now, off with the lot of you, it's getting later with every sentence we speak." The others chuckled appreciatively and stepped, one after the other, to floo back to Hogwarts.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: As Dumbledore says in the film of 'Goblet of Fire' as the first task draws near, you've waited, you've wondered, and at last the moment you've all been waiting for…the next chapter!! Yay!! I think, though, that I am going to stop promising quick updates in my (future) author's notes and/or my responses to your reviews. It seems, no matter how much and/or often I promise myself—and all you readers out there—quick updates and new chapters and what have you, things have been going much more slowly, much to my own frustration, and perhaps yours as well; I don't know. That being said, I hope you will be patient with me, and continue to read and review. It's impossible to say how happy both make me. Cheers until chap. 10!


	10. Chapter 10

Ten

A month passed quickly, with everything that was going on. After some thought about it all, Hermione and Harry decided to tell Ron and Ginny everything, including the fact that they now slept together in a hidden room, and showed their redheaded friends the room in question.

"I definitely think Sirius and Lupin are right about the value of being close with you, and I like feeling like I can trust you again," Harry told Ron after he and Hermione had concluded their tour. Hermione and Ginny had sequestered themselves in Hermione's bathroom, presumably talking over similar things in their own way, away from the boys.

"I'm sorry that we had that falling out, too," Ron replied, "it was weird. It didn't feel…right."

"No kidding!" Harry chuckled. At that moment, Hermione and Ginny returned, and they all sat down on the bed together and chatted amicably until they decided that they needed to get to their homework, and the four of them left for the library.

It had also become a busy time for Harry and Hermione as well as they prepared for learning about their Animagus forms, which both found exciting, but it also meant that they both got up an hour earlier than usual so that they could incorporate the yoga stretches and push-ups into their morning schedules before showering and going to breakfast. And in the evenings, in addition to homework, they began practicing some of the relaxation methods that the Animagus books covered in preparation for the revealer potion, and every Saturday, went to Lupin's house for an hour and a half of supervised workouts. It was grueling, but both Harry and Hermione noted that the reward was well worth the effort. As they got stronger physically, they began to gain confidence in themselves and started to enjoy the feelings that they got after the workouts, plus it made them happy. They also found that their stamina had also increased, which Harry noted during Quidditch practice, and Hermione and Harry together noted that it helped with their studying.

With all that, they were very surprised when the month had gone by, and Sirius had called them and informed them that the Animagus revealer potion was all set. Excited and a bit nervous, Harry and Hermione promptly flooed over to Lupin's place. Sirius led them into the gym, where Lupin was already waiting with the potion, which he had ladled into two goblets. Harry and Hermione lay down on the floor in the exact position recommended by both Animagus books, and Lupin handed them the goblets.

"Be sure to drink all of that, right down to the last drop, that's very important," Lupin said, "and then once you've drunk it, you will see your forms." Harry and Hermione nodded, and raised themselves up on their elbows and drank. The fluid had no odor to speak of, but it tasted like blueberries with a honey glaze, which surprised both children, as the potion itself looked about as appealing as the illegal Polyjuice Potion they, along with Ron, had consumed last year to interrogate specific Slytherins about the Chamber of Secrets. After he had drained his goblet, Harry felt a wave of peacefulness wash over him, and grinning lazily, sunk back down to the floor, subconsciously taking Hermione's hand. Then, suddenly and without warning, he went into a powerful trance.

Mist surrounded him. It was about all that he could see except for the fact that he could make out some very impressive mountains in the background. A very light breeze was making him chilly. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a howl. It was a very beautiful sound, and it warmed him up, despite the continued presence of the cool breeze. Then, a beautiful, large Grey Wolf stepped out of the mist. It stood regally, clearly the Alpha male, it's grey-white coat ruffling in the breeze. It locked it's gorgeous blue-brown eyes with Harry, and gave a joyful bark and ran up to him. The fur just above the tail stuck out at odd angles. It was, Harry realized with dark amusement, his distinguishing feature—his messy, untamable hair. The wolf barked again, jumped on Harry, knocking him over, and licked him happily on both cheeks with it's rough tongue. Harry noted with interest that as the wolf walked back into the mists, a bird circled above him. He recognized it as a Phoenix, but couldn't understand what it meant, especially since the Phoenix was hardly visible through the thick mists. It sang out one note—again odd, as Harry recalled that Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's Phoenix had a three-note song.

Hermione, meanwhile, found herself in the same mist. She could only just see what appeared to be a tropical island of sorts, or at least what appeared to be a beach, beyond which she could make out a small hill with palm trees on it. A sudden breeze chilled her, and without thinking about it, reached out to pull a nonexistent coat closer around her. Then, suddenly, she heard three notes come out of nowhere, all of which sustained themselves, blending and intermixing to form a perfect chord. For some reason, the pitches warmed Hermione, even though the breeze had not stopped blowing. Then, from out of the mists, a gorgeous Phoenix circled down and alighted on her shoulder. It had a thick, bushy coat of beautiful, shiny brown feathers, and a gold beak. Gold stripes ran the length of the wings. It's eyes reminded Hermione forcefully of her mother's eyes, and were the same comforting chocolate color. Hermione recognized the color of the Phoenix's feathers and their thickness as being the same as her own hair, and was her distinguishing feature. The Phoenix chirped happily into Hermione's ear, nibbled playfully at her hair, and then took off. As it returned to the mists, Hermione just barely noticed a wolf prowling over on the hillside. It looked at her, sat down and howled, but Hermione noted that the howl was not exactly on pitch, and sounded rough, and that the wolf quickly stopped.

And then, just as suddenly, both Harry and Hermione came out of their trances.

"Well?" Lupin asked excitedly.

"I'm a wolf," Harry said shakily (the trance had apparently used up much of his energy, for he felt quite exhausted).

"Excellent!" Sirius said, nearly jumping for joy, "my godson takes after his godfather!! We can be canines together!" Harry and Lupin chuckled.

"What about you, Hermione?" Lupin asked.

"I'm a Phoenix," she replied in the same exhausted tone.

"That's amazing, Hermione," Lupin said, "it takes a very, very strong, yet balanced personality to have a Phoenix representation."

"That sounds like my girlfriend," Harry said lightly, but then turned serious again. "When the wolf I saw in my trance left," he said, looking at Hermione, "I could just make out a Phoenix." Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, and when my Phoenix left, I think I saw a wolf in the distance."

"Interesting," Sirius said thoughtfully, "were they easily visible?"

"No," Harry said, "I could just barely see it, for the mist, and when it sang, I only caught one note, even though when Fawkes sings, he sings three notes."

"I'm guessing, then, that when you saw that wolf, Hermione, it didn't howl in a way typical of a wolf? I imagine it was unusually short, for one thing."

"And off key," Hermione replied. Sirius nodded.

"On occasion," he said, "if a bonded pair has an animal representation, they can, at times, share each other's Animagus forms, and even if they cannot share the forms, they can share in the magical powers of their partner's form. I'm guessing that since you could not see each other's forms well, and they did not acknowledge you—at least in the way your given forms did—that you two will be in the latter position. However, bonds, and to a lesser extent, Animagi being such unknown subjects, I urge you both to try to transform into each other's forms; we may all be surprised with the results. Remus and I will be teaching you how to begin learning how to transform, but first—" he looked concernedly down at both teenagers, who had simultaneously yawned hugely "—I think you two ought to take a nap. The Animagus revealer potion uses one's physical and magical energy in huge quantities. Why, I don't know exactly, but it does. We were lucky that the potion matured on a Friday evening after your classes."

"You two are welcome to use my bed," Lupin said, "just don't do any funny stuff." He grinned at them and winked. Harry smiled tiredly. He would have liked very much to wink back, but at the moment, he was unsure if he could even stay vertical for long, so instead, he focused on helping Hermione up, a task he wasn't sure he could manage as well as he normally would, and the two of them made their way gratefully to Lupin's bedroom, and even though they had not gotten out of their clothes, or under the covers, within seconds, both were soundly sleeping.

Harry awoke after what felt like a light doze, but it must have been for a few hours, for when he looked out the window, only a very tiny amount of sun remained on the horizon and twilight had set in. Hermione had not yet woken up. Glancing into the living room, Harry saw Sirius and Lupin chatting over mugs of coffee and looking at what appeared to be a photo album.

"Hey Harry," Lupin said softly, having caught Harry's eye, and noticed that Hermione had not yet woken up, "come and join us." Harry walked over and pulled up a seat beside Sirius.

"Is it…okay that Hermione and I are…staying here?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Absolutely," Lupin responded, "although I have had to add on a room for you two. But I talked with Dumbledore just now, and he's okay with you two staying here since it's the weekend."

"Ah, here's what I was looking for," Sirius said suddenly, having taken no apparent notice of Lupin and Harry's conversation, and he pushed the photo album gently towards Harry, who looked down to see himself as a newborn in his parents' arms.

Harry noted with some amusement that he could hardly see his face for the multitudes of blankets that covered him, but Harry was not looking so much at the infant version of himself as much as the two people who held him. His father looked, as people were so fond of telling him, very much like himself, except that his eyes were hazel in color and it looked like he could have been just a little bit taller. Looking over at his mother, Harry's first impression was that she looked a bit like Ginny, though he reckoned that was mostly because they both had red hair, and his mother's hair was much darker – though no less pretty – than Ginny's. Lily's face was also longer than Ginny's. Looking down at them both, Harry felt a surge of emotion go through him, and he leaned back in his chair, thinking.

"Sirius…" he said slowly and thoughtfully after a few moments,

"Yeah pup?"

"Er…do you think there's a way I can find more stuff like this? You know, of my parents? A portrait or something like that would be really cool…" Sirius looked thoughtful, though only for seconds.

"Harry, have you had a chance to actually visit your vaults at Gringotts?" Harry shook his head, and Sirius nodded, again thoughtfully.

"Since Gringotts doesn't only keep money in those vaults, we may be able to find some stuff for you there, not to mention that I think it would be a good idea for you and Hermione to see them anyway, and since you did inherit all your family's homes, I…well, I was thinking, Harry…I do plan on petitioning for custody of you, and I _do _have a house, but…I'm sure since no one has lived there for a long time, and given that our house elf was going barmy before I even started attending Hogwarts, well…I'd hate to think what state that place is in currently, so, I think we ought to live in the manor instead…with your permission, of course. I think we could go to Gringotts and visit the manor over the weekend."

"Yeah," Harry said excitedly, "we should do that. If we do live in the manor," he added, looking at Lupin, "I think you should come live there, too, Professor. I mean, this place is nice, and you've done a spectacular job making it livable—" Lupin blushed as Sirius chuckled "—but I think you'd be happier at the manor. So would I—" it was Harry's turn to blush "—I mean, you're more like my uncle than Uncle Vernon is." Lupin smiled at Harry and it looked like he was fighting to keep his composure.

"Thank you, Harry," Lupin responded quietly. Harry smiled.

"No need to thank me, Remus," Harry replied, "I'm so excited that you two will be living at my house."

"What say you to bed, pup? It's getting rather late," Sirius said after a couple more hours of the three of them just sitting around chatting over some tea Sirius had the foresight to make. Harry was starting to become concerned that Hermione had not yet woken up.

"Don't worry, Harry," Lupin said soothingly, "Hermione's response to the Revealer potion is not uncommon. I think James and Sirius needed about sixteen hours sleep afterward, and Peter needed about twenty, which is why I think you need to go back to bed yourself Harry; it takes a lot of rest to recover from magical exhaustion." Harry nodded, went over to wake Hermione and helped guide her over to the bedroom Lupin had added and watched her fall right back asleep, while he got under the covers with her. With the comforting thought that tomorrow they'd be visiting his family vaults and his house in his head, he rolled over, spooning Hermione and fell asleep as well.

Hermione woke up first the next morning, to find Harry sleeping soundly using her chest as a pillow. She smiled, running her hand lovingly through his hair, but as she was thinking that she needed more of Harry sleeping against her like that; that she needed more of him, she also felt an inexplicably strong urge to hex him. Anything would do, even an unforgivable, which made no sense, as her desire to hex him couldn't be more in contrast to her happy mood. Frightened, she gently laid Harry down, who moaned quietly, almost making Hermione rethink her decision, and went to find Sirius or Remus.

"Good morning, my soon-to-be goddaughter-in-law," Sirius called happily from the table, where he was nursing a mug of coffee.

"I already _am _your goddaughter-in-law," Hermione responded, feigning hurt, and trying to smile, at which she spectacularly failed.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Sirius asked, concerned. With increasing desperation in her voice, Hermione explained her unusual desires she had experienced waking up.

"Ah, don't worry, Hermione," Sirius said bracingly, "In many, though not all, cases of magical exhaustion, the wizard or witch has a sudden, subconscious urge to use their magic after they have sufficiently rested to rebuild their magical energies. In some ways, it's almost like sexual excitement, and works on a similar principle." He chuckled as Hermione blushed. "When I recovered after my using the Revealer potion, I was far less adept at controlling my urges," Sirius recalled, a smile on his face, "I hexed Moony."

"You put a stinging charm on me that left me with a nasty burn," Lupin said indignantly, but he too was smiling.

And as Sirius had said, Harry, like his Godfather, was much less adept at resisting his urges, and the burn on Sirius' forearm looked like it would last a couple of hours at least.

After a breakfast that both Harry and Hermione, due to excitement and nervousness, had trouble eating, they prepared to side-along Apparate to just outside Diagon Alley. Quickly, Lupin explained how side-along Apparition worked, and Harry took a steady grip on Sirius' arm, and Hermione held on to Lupin. The feeling of Apparition was probably the most uncomfortable sensation either Harry or Hermione experienced. Like being squeezed through a small tube, it was impossible to breathe and it was a wonder that none of their bones were breaking. Thankfully, it only lasted a few seconds, and once they had reappeared outside the Leaky Cauldron, both teenagers took huge breaths, and tried to get re-oriented.

"Are you okay?" Sirius asked, "That sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'll be okay," Harry said, quickly making absolutely certain that none of his bones _were _broken, and followed Sirius into the pub and into the secret entrance to Diagon Alley, where they treaded up to the snowy white marble building of Gringotts bank.

Once inside, Sirius led the group up to the first available teller.

"Could we please speak with Mr. Harry Potter's account manager?" Sirius asked the teller politely.

"Which one of you is Mr. Harry Potter?" the Goblin teller asked. Harry stepped forward. The Goblin teller took off his glasses and set them on his forehead and withdrew a second pair from his desk drawer and placed them to his eyes. They looked like ordinary pince-nez glasses except they were thicker and had little sliders on the sides and on the bridge. The teller adjusted the bridge slider, surveyed Harry for a second, grunted, and spoke into a goblet-like microphone device, requesting Griphook.

"These," the teller grunted, seeing Harry's curious glance at his strange glasses, "are a little new thing we're trying. Normally, Gringotts would require just a drop of your blood to prove that you are indeed Mr. Harry Potter, but we felt that the method was too slow, and have had customer complaints to back our theory up. These have done a remarkable job in bringing up our level of efficiency. What we were able to gleam from the blood samples we can now see just as clearly with these." He waved the glasses before replacing them in their drawer and putting his normal glasses back.

"Ah!" Said the teller presently, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Griphook."

"Good day, Griphook, sir," Harry said pleasantly.

"Good day, Mr. Potter, it is an honor. Would you care to step into my office?"

"That would be very nice, thank you."

"To what do I owe this visit, Mr. Potter?" Griphook asked once they were all sequestered in Griphook's small office.

"Griphook, sir, I was hoping to talk about my family vaults in more detail than the last time we met, and I would like to actually see them."

"Certainly, Mr. Potter. I must tell you, however, that such meetings are restricted to family members only. I can see that this young lady is your bondmate, but may I ask…?" he inclined his head to Sirius and Lupin.

"Griphook, this is Sirius Black, my Godfather, and this is Remus Lupin, who is the closest I have to an uncle."

"Do both of you gentlemen have accounts here at Gringotts?" both nodded. "And do you have your keys?" they nodded again. "I will need your keys to contact your respective account managers, as neither of you are by blood related to Mr. Potter. Mr. Black, if you are Mr. Potter's legal guardian, this extra measure may be waived." Sirius sighed.

"I have not yet applied to be Harry's guardian at the Ministry, but I will be very, very soon." Griphook nodded and took Sirius and Lupin's keys, cast a spell on them, which summoned the managers of the Black and Lupin accounts respectively, and after a brief conversation between the three managers, and drops of both Sirius and Lupin's blood, Sirius and Lupin were cleared to meet with Griphook.

"Now," Griphook said, taking his seat, and facing the four, "what would you like to discuss?"

"I would like to very specifically discuss my properties," Harry replied.

"Very well," Griphook responded, "you have several properties, most of which are located here in the United Kingdom, but you also have two villas in France and Italy and a small farm in the United States. You had property in Canada as well, however your mother insisted that we take away all traces of Magical inhabitation and she sold it to an uncle of hers who lived there. We have received word that he passed away a year before you were born, and if you want to buy back that land, just let me know. Now, your main property is the family mansion, Mapleworth Hall. All your properties are protected under an old variation of the Fidelius Charm. As long as each generation of owners produces an heir or names a successor, the houses remain hidden from all except the heir and/or successor, who is then in charge of naming those to whom the houses will show itself. I believe a portrait that is kept in Mapleworth Hall is the secret-keeper."

"How do I get to the house? I would very much like to see it," Harry said.

"There is a Portkey in your vault that will take you there," Griphook answered. "Is there anything else, or would you like to go down to the vault? I believe you mentioned that you would like to see it."

"I would very much like to go now, but…I don't have a key for my family vault," Harry said, suddenly feeling very nervous.

"Don't worry," Griphook assured, "the Potter vault is protected by one of Gringotts' oldest and most trusted security systems, which, in short, will only allow a Potter and their spouse to open the vault." Harry nodded, and they left Griphook's office and got into one of the Gringotts carts, which sped them down far deeper into the chasms that were the Gringotts vaults than Harry had ever been before. Getting out of the cart, Griphook led them to a stately, somewhat eerie door of wrought iron. Except for the rivets running along the borders and a convex bubble, the door was completely bare.

"Mr. Potter, place your hand here," Griphook said, indicating the bubble. Harry put his hand there, and found it surprisingly warm. A few moments later the door seemed to disappear.

"Take your time," Griphook said, "and as soon as you've finished your business, you may call me."

"Are you not coming in?" Harry asked. Griphook smiled in a slightly unsettling way.

"No," he said, "the Goblins are not allowed in clients' vaults, so that the clients may have privacy during their stay. There is one more thing I wish to discuss once you are done, so I hope you will leave time to spare." With that, the door shut, closing Harry, Hermione, Sirius and Remus in Harry's vault.

"Now," Sirius said, "I believe you said you'd like something that would show you your parents, so…" and without another word, he set off around the vault looking for whatever it was. Harry meanwhile, looked around, too, but much more slowly.

The vault was huge. One whole room was covered from head to foot in gold. He _was _very rich, but to see it was a bit overwhelming. The room he was standing in with the others, adjoined the money room, and looked more like someone's attic, or a roadside flea market. Millions of random things lay helter-skelter around there, the only distinguishing feature seeming to be that everything had great value, except the occasional thing that seemed to be there almost by mistake, like a moth-eaten old sofa and equally shabby carpet, a bunch of old books which seemed to have been destroyed by fire or other types of things that would cause books harm. Harry noticed, amused, that Hermione was looking at the devastated books with a mildly grieving expression, as though she were looking at the headstone of some long-lost almost forgotten friend. On a dais in exactly the center of the room was a large brass key, which Harry guessed was the Portkey to his home.

"Not here…not here…not here…" Sirius was down on all fours, still looking for his object, muttering over and over under his breath. "Aha!" He stood up, and strolled over to Harry.

"Here you go, Harry, I can't think of a better way to put you closer to your parents. Your mother's journal," Sirius said in response to Harry's quizzical glances at the dusty book Sirius held outstretched in his hands, "it's even got a few photographs you might like." Harry grinned and accepted the book from Sirius, but did not open it; he wanted to savor the moment. Sirius smiled in an understanding way.

"Would you like to see your true home?" He asked. Harry nodded vigorously, and Sirius signaled to Lupin and they all gathered around the large key, and in a moment, Harry felt the sensation of a hook being pulled behind his naval and he was going home for the first time in his life.


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven

Harry felt himself hit solid ground as the Portkey dropped them off at their final destination, and rolled out of the way to avoid being squashed by Hermione, Sirius and Lupin. Once he had gotten himself up off the ground and brushed himself off, he noticed where they were, and his jaw dropped.

They were standing in what appeared to be the parlor of Mapleworth Hall, a grand room that had a ceiling that was very tall, from which ornate candelabra chandeliers, like larger, grander versions of the one in Harry and Hermione's special room in the Gryffindor Common Room, hung down, bathing the room in warm golden light. Full-length French windows looked out onto an elaborate, perfectly-kept garden, and filling the room were dozens of beautiful, plush Edwardian sofas and armchairs, a piano and a billiard table. Portraits and other paintings lined the wall. A gorgeous fireplace of polished marble shone in its place against the west wall. Harry and Hermione looked around in awe, unable to say anything. Sirius and Lupin were looking around with reminiscent grins.

"M-m-master James??" A croaky, old, astonished voice suddenly said. Harry looked around for the source of the voice, and his vision rested on three House Elves standing a respectable distance away from Harry's feet. The slightly taller of the two looked older than the third who looked like the elfish version of a human in their thirties, who was also smaller than the other two.

"No, it is Master's son!" Squealed the smaller elf, who seemed very excitable, "it is surely young Master Harry! I is Dilly, sir! And these is Dilly's parents, Fillian and Davenscrift, sir! We is the Potter family house elves!"

"Master Harry, I am so proud," Davenscrift, who was the oldest and largest, said, bowing. Fillian also bowed. Harry's sense of overwhelm only increased, and he looked over at Sirius, who must have noticed his almost helpless expression for he laughed.

"I'm sorry, Harry, it did not occur to me to tell you that, along with everything else you now own, you have these elves under your supervision," Sirius said to Harry, "It's been a long time, Davenscrift," he added, stepping towards the elf.

"Sirius, sir!" Davenscrift said happily, but at a look from Fillian, who appeared to be his wife, and Dilly's mother, from what Harry's shocked brain could put together, Davenscrift faltered. "We is sorry, Sirius, sir, but we is hearing rumors from Everard's portrait…"

"Ah, yes," Sirius said, "I have been cleared of all charges, Davenscrift, and will be filing to be Harry's guardian." Davenscrift beamed. It was clear he and Sirius got along. "Speaking of Harry," Sirius added, "do we need to contract him to you and Fillian and Dilly?"

"No, Sirius, sir," Davenscrift responded, "as far back as I is remembering, sir, the Potters have always bonded their children and elves when the child is an infant. We have been Master Harry's elves since then, as much as we were Master James and Mistress Lily's elves."

"Which means," Sirius said, facing Harry, "that these elves are here for you, and will serve you."

"It is so nice to have someone to serve again," Fillian said wistfully, "I loved serving Mistress Lily. She is Fillian's favorite, Master Harry, sir, but I is honored to be in the service of the noble Potter family and am proud and excited to be serving Mistress Lily's son. But Fillian is recognizing Sirius, Remus and Master Harry, but is wondering who the young girl Master brings with him is?"

"Sorry," Harry said caught unaware, "Davenscrift, Fillian, Dilly, this is Hermione Granger. Er…we're bonded."

"I is seeing the magic!" Dilly said suddenly, "but I is wondering why Mistress Hermione is still being addressed by her maiden name? Why is she not Hermione Potter?" Harry blushed, having not really considered much that they were now married. She was his, and he was hers, that was all that mattered to him. Hermione was blushing but also grinning broadly. She looked at Harry.

"Hermione Potter…I like the sound of that."

"Me too."

"We will call you Mistress Hermione Potter then," Fillian said in a final tone, but still smiling.

"Er…I'd rather you just called me Hermione," Hermione responded.

"Yeah…I'd prefer it if you just called me Harry, too," Harry said. Both Davenscrift and Fillian looked confused, but bowed, showing, Harry assumed, assent. However, they refused to not call Harry and Hermione 'Master' and 'Mistress', citing that it was an honor to serve them, and that they felt equally honored to be bound to them, and therefore were honor-bound to address Harry and Hermione, in their eyes, by their rightful title.

"Would Master Harry like a tour, sir?" Dilly asked. Harry nodded, and followed Dilly from the parlor.

The house was amazing. They left the parlor, and found themselves in a semicircular room facing the left side and slightly behind a grand two-sided staircase like on the Muggle luxury liner, the _RMS Titanic_, which had sunk many years before Hermione or Harry had been born. It even had a sculpted figure, an elf, holding a gorgeous chandelier on the central banister. To the right and slightly behind the staircase was the entrance to the dining room, which included a veranda which offered stunning views of the grounds, including a garden which appeared to go around the entire house. A door directly behind the staircase led to a hall that had two large studies, what appeared to be the residences of the house elves, and a door at the other end offering access to the grounds, and the first floor entrance to the two-floor library. Facing the staircase was the main hall, where the front doors were located. They were large, impressive but not intimidating doors. To the right hand side was a very large walk in closet and bathroom, to the left, a smaller parlor where guests could relax with their hosts, from which another bathroom adjoined. This room was almost all windows and clearly doubled as a greenhouse, with Parisian wicker chairs that surrounded four three-person wicker coffee tables. It was from this room that you could just get a glimpse of the sea. On the second floor there were mostly bedrooms, and the second floor part of the library, off which was another, much smaller room that Dilly said housed the security center for the house and said that Harry should not visit unless he had a few hours to spare. Harry agreed to skip over that particular room. His attention was on Hermione, who was speechless with delight at the library. Actually, they all had been speechless with delight from the moment the Portkey had dropped them in the parlor of Mapleworth Hall, but Harry loved seeing Hermione gazing at the too numerous to count bookshelves; she was so cute, all flushed with excitement and pleasure. There was another, much smaller parlor/living room across from the library which was much more Spartan in comparison with its first-floor counterparts. The rest of the rooms on the second floor were bedrooms, ten in all, and each had adjoining bathrooms in various states of elegance. The master bedroom, which Sirius and Lupin agreed should be Harry and Hermione's, as it had been James and Lily's before them, was at the back of the hall. A dark, forest green carpet covered the floor, and there was a king-sized four poster in there, as well as a sofa and two armchairs, a walk-in closet and an enormous bathroom that was by far the most elegant; the whole room was the most elegant, and offered breathtaking views of the ground, and included a small hanging screen porch. The next most elegant rooms became Sirius and Lupin's bedrooms.

The outside was equally magnificent. The garden did indeed circumnavigate the house, and also seemed to be the main attraction of the outdoor area. It was like living in a park, right down to the center of the garden which featured a gorgeous fountain surrounded by brilliant blooms and comfy park benches. Harry couldn't wait for the opportunity to snog Hermione by the fountain. The Quidditch pitch offered a spectacular view of the sea, and what appeared to be a quaint little harbor. Also nestled into a small cliff that overlooked the bay was a large boathouse. After further explorations, which included discovering a swimming pool made of marble, Lupin called them all in for a delicious lunch prepared by Fillian and Davenscrift.

After lunch, Sirius suggested that they visit the town, because there would be business, according to Sirius that he would need to get done there. He led Harry and Hermione outside and down to a basement entrance at the back of the house he must have missed during Dilly's initial tour of the grounds. Sirius opened the door to the basement, and led them in. It was not a big room, but it housed a very large furnace, and stacks of firewood lined the long side of the room.

"The elves liked to call this room theirs," Sirius said as he strolled around a large tarp, "but your father thought that this would be a good place to store these." He pulled on the tarp, which fell away to reveal two small Muggle Honda motor-scooters.

"Your parents liked the town," Sirius explained, "and thought these to be a fun, easy way to go incognito when they wanted to visit the town. Now, if we take these over to the Quidditch field, I think we'll find that it has a charm similar to Moony's cushioning charm, and we can practice riding those scooters."

"But…by Muggle law, Harry and I aren't old enough to operate those," Hermione said uncertainly, indicating the scooters.

"Don't worry, Hermione," Sirius said reassuringly, "there's a little charm that Davenscrift knows to create perfectly valid licenses for you two, and you'll find that most in the town knew Harry's dad and grandparents, so as long as you know how to work these things, I can pretty much say you'll be just fine." It took a minute to convince Hermione, but a few moments later found Sirius and Lupin patiently teaching Harry and Hermione to operate the scooters, and after about a half hour, both elder men declared the children to be ready to drive into town.

"How do we get there?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Just follow the yellow brick road," Lupin responded, indicating a road that was indeed made of yellow bricks—actually, it was plain asphalt, but Lily had charmed it to look like yellow bricks to pay a humorous tribute to one of her favorite movies, and indeed the party was delayed a further few minutes as Hermione regained control of her mirth.

The town, Anstruther, was a picturesque Scottish fishing village near St. Andrews. Sirius, who was straddled uncomfortably on Harry's scooter, indicated that they needed to get down to the road that ran alongside the harbor, and told Harry to stop at a particular building with a door marked _Harbor Master_. Sirius stiffly got off the scooter and knocked.

"Come in," a voice called. Sirius opened the door and stepped inside. It was like walking into an explosion of maritime charts and pipe smoke, for the man sitting at the desk, who had black hair and beard and a blue pullover with a small anchor in the center, was smoking a pipe.

"Captain Haddock, it's good to see you after so many years," Sirius said warmly, moving towards the man with his hand outstretched, "it's Sirius Black."

"Sirius, mate! Good to see you as well. I trust I find you well? That you, Remus?"

"Indeed, Archie," Lupin responded.

"_Don't _call me Archie," he growled back.

"Harry, this is Archibald Haddock, who prefers to be known as Captain Haddock or just Captain. Captain, this is Harry Potter, James Potter's son, and his wif—girlfriend, Hermione."

"Thundering typhoons," Captain Haddock responded in awe, "yes, my word, so you are. So pleased to meet you, son. Your father was a great friend and my employer. Actually, your whole family was my employer for about five generations now. Your great-grandfather's grandfather was a big part of how this area got its name in the fishing industry. So, I reckon you want to see your boats?"

"I have boats?" Harry asked in awe.

"Yep," said Sirius ironically, "among other things."

"Come on," Captain Haddock said excitedly, taking a draw on his pipe and expelling a cloud of sweet smelling tobacco, "let's go." He led them out of his office, and down to where a whole plethora of boats were tied up to a pier.

"See them out there?" Captain Haddock asked, pointing. Harry followed the Captain's finger and indeed saw three boats side by side. One was a schooner, tied up in a slip in one of the floats, a smaller motor launch in the slip beside it, and a large fishing boat was pointed out by Captain Haddock, tied up beside two more of its kind, against the part of the pier that was near a warehouse. Captain Haddock led them to a pier which had a ramp leading to the floats where the schooner and launch were moored.

"We'll see the schooner first," Captain Haddock said, and led them out to the schooner.

It was a beautiful 55' Gaff-rigged schooner called the _Bonny Bonnie_. A wooden boat painted dark blue with a varnished trim.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Captain Haddock asked. It most certainly was, and once again Harry found his voice stubbornly unwilling to make a sound or cooperate with his brain, which was insisting that he prove to the Captain that he had heard him.

"Your great grandfather bought this," Captain Haddock told Harry, "when he went across the pond to Boston one time. Charles, his name was, and his wife, Bonnie. Excellent sailors they were, my grandfather used to tell me stories about them. The Haddocks have looked after this boat for five generations, we have. Now," he reached up, pulled himself up into the cockpit and reached around till he found a little ladder which he secured over the side, and then offered his hand to help Hermione up. Once Sirius and Lupin were on board, Captain Haddock began talking about the boat, explaining the different sails, how everything worked, etc., etc.

"But you won't have to worry about any of that," he concluded, "or at least any more than you want to learn. Your father used to trust me to take care of captaining the boat if he needed to use it to get away for a while, or at least put together something of a crew, and I will be delighted to carry on doing that for you."

"Thank you," Harry said. Captain Haddock nodded, and pointed to the fore and aft cabins.

"That one," Captain Haddock said, indicating the aft cabin gangway, "leads straight to your personal cabin—or at least, your father and grandfather decided that would be their personal cabin, along with their spouses, so I reckon you'll want it to be yours." Harry nodded.

"That sounds good." Captain Haddock grinned, and led them down the gangway. It was a gorgeous room which had Hermione in transports of delight. Perfectly sized, it contained a queen-sized bed off to port (left) with clothing drawers and a foldaway settee on the starboard side (right). A small door enclosed the aft cabin for privacy. The midsection contained a large chart table and workbench which led into the forward cabin, which contained a foul weather gear locker, the head (bathroom) with a shower stall and sink included. To port was the galley (kitchen) complete with a refrigerator/freezer unit, a stove a sink and storage locker, and through an open archway forward of the galley was the salon, which was nicely posh and comfy, but not overly fancy. Forward of the salon were two private guest berths, containing two bunk-bed double beds. The most forward room below decks was the foc'sle, which contained a bunk-bed V-birth for four.

"Your grandfather had the upper bunks added when he would take groups of his friends for weekend cruises, although it more commonly is where the crew sleeps," Captain Haddock explained. Privately, Harry wondered if there were other ways his family had made it possible for more friends to come aboard than the additional bunks.

After much briefer tours of his other two boats, the fishing boat the _Sea Marauder_ and the motor launch, a Flanders Bay 27' Dutch harbor launch that Captain Haddock said Harry's father had used for day trips to an island he owned and the farm on said island, the group returned to Anstruther.

"I'm exhausted," Harry grumbled good naturedly a little bit later after he and Sirius had secured the tarp back over the motor scooters.

"Yeah," Lupin said, "we really need to get you and Hermione back to school. Dumbledore'll do his nut if we spent much more time here." Suddenly, Hermione gave the group a terrified glance.

"I've just remembered," she said, "Griphook wanted to speak to us after we were done, but we must have spent the majority of the day here!"

"Don't worry, Hermione," Lupin responded, who seemed fond of Hermione in an uncle-like sense, "he'll have gone on and seen other clients. Basically, Gringotts has a charm that alerts goblins of when their clients have finished their business and have left their vaults, and send the appropriate goblin straightaway. If the goblins waited while their clients did their business all the time, there'd be no goblins to wait on counter in the lobby." In response to Harry and Hermione's unknowing looks, he went on. "Gringotts does not only safeguard a wizard's gold and inheritances, but uses the vaults as meeting places for the wizard's most important meetings or if they just need an escape of some sort. Others, like Ron's brother, Bill, often make their offices in their vaults, and if your work involves very valuable stuff, it is a very wise move."

"We'll have to bring you back here, say next weekend," Sirius said as they trudged back up to the manor, "now that you've seen the house, we need to set up the privacy, and make sure everything is still secure, like the Fidelius charm and whatnot." Harry nodded. He was in fact, very much looking forward to when he'd have to return, whatever the reason for it be, and he also wanted to sleep with Hermione in one of his new beds. Whether in his suite or on board the _Bonny Bonnie _he did not know, but was excited nonetheless. He grinned to the parlor's immense ceiling as he and the others touched the Portkey that would take them back.

When they left the vault, after replacing the Portkey, and had stepped outside to where the vaults overlooked the goblin cart tracks, Griphook, just as Lupin had said, was by their side in an instant. As it conspired, the business he had wished to discuss with Harry was, as it had been with the elves, to know how Hermione wished to be addressed, due to her bond with Harry, and, after saying that she wanted to be addressed as 'Mrs. Potter', the goblin ushered them from his office after many thanks, and they prepared to apparate back to Lupin's house, from where they would floo back to Hogwarts.

As they stepped out from the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office, the designated floo location, they were met by a grave Professor Dumbledore.

"Come to my office quickly," he said before anyone could say anything, in an urgent voice, "there are issues that must be dealt with, and quickly."


End file.
